Crossroads
by Dreaming Ani
Summary: The Brain, The Jock, The Pincess, The Basketcase, The Criminal and The...Tramp? I know it's been done before, adding a another to the mix but bare with me, it'll be good I promise, I hope! Modern themed. BenderXOC OC-centric
1. Chapter 1

_Saturday, March 22, 2011. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois. 60062._

_Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was that we did wrong, what we did was wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write this essay telling you who we think we are, what do you care? You see us as you want to see us, in the simplest terms, and the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, a criminal, and a tramp. Correct? That's the way we saw each other at seven o'clock this morning. We were brainwashed._

The school was desolate and void of any life, but that was only to be expected, this was after all a Saturday, who went to school on a Saturday. Well no one did, not unless you had detention. A different array of vehicles pulled up into the driveway this cold morning. From four wheel trucks stocked up with construction to a brand new Rolls-Royce sparkling under the small rays that escaped the grey skies above sat upon the drive. No one made a move to get off and into the school, honestly who was eager to start what they could only conceive was a hellish day?

"I can't believe you can't get me out of this?" her voice was soft against the slight hum of the motor as she sat beside her father, or what was supposed to be her father not a robot. She continues on when he says nothing, "It's so absurd I have to be here on a Saturday! It's not like I'm a defective or anything."

Her auburn colored eyes fall down to her tidy white Armani skinny's. Their beautifully brilliant topped with another name brand pink shirt. Slipping a brown micro belt through her jeans she was able to match her brown leather jacket, another name brand item, and her matching brown leather boots, again name brand. Her brilliant red curls now brushing past her shoulders were done up perfectly as well was her face, no school or not, she was never undone.

Smiling her father simply grabs her things for her and hands them to her saying as he does so, "I'll make it up to ya. Honey, ditching class to go shopping doesn't make you a defective, now have a great day."

Pushing open the door the beautiful red head steps out thinking darkly as she does so, 'Highly doubtful.'

"Is this the first time or the last time you do this?" her voice was sharp and stern even this early in the morning, briefly he wonders if it has another tone to it at all.

But he says nothing and merely mutters meekly, for as much as he wanted to say something he knew it was best not to talk back, "The last."

Pale blue eyes refuse to look up instead focusing on his perfectly clean Nike shoes. They looked to be brand new but weren't, he simply always kept them spic and span. His khakis fell over them hiding them briefly. A pale green long sleeve dress shirt was tucked neatly into his khakis under the large brown winter coat he wore. In all honesty he looked as if pulled right out of a gap catalogue, but after all he too looked like a baby faced child pulled out of a gap catalogue, brains, attitude and all.

"Well get in there and use the time to your advantage," she tells him her blue eyes searing through his in that oppressive manner they always did.

"Mom we're not supposed to study, we're just supposed to sit there and do nothing," the blonde says softly hoping to get a different reaction than the one he knew he'd receive; it was all he ever received, the pressure.

"Well mister you figure out a way to study!" she barks ruffling her golden curls slightly.

A small echo is heard not a sister but an exact copy of her in the background, "Yeah!"

Staring blankly at both of them a yell rumbles deep in his chest but he says nothing when she shouts, "Well go!"

"Hey I screwed around; guys screw around, there's nothing wrong with that," he says pausing to look at his son before continuing, "Except you got caught sport."

With his head bent low almost into a submissive position the sandy blonde boy merely mutters without life, "Yeah mom already rang me alright?"

His eyes locked themselves upon his own reflection in the side view mirror of his father's truck. There wasn't anything wrong with the way he looked, he looked perfect in fact, and so much so that maybe that was why he looked at himself with disgust. He was the perfect stereo type. The all star athlete, do nothing wrong, straight arrowed boy in blue jeans, polo shirt, white and blue leather man wearing all American kid.

"You want to miss a match?" the man yells suddenly angry, "You want to blow your ride?"

When the boy simply shakes his head he informs him, "No school is going to give a scholarship to a discipline case!"

At this his head shoots up blue eyes meeting faded ones with an intensity that the older one misses. He'd give anything to do what he feels inside but he simply shakes his head and jumps off the car slamming the door with more force than necessary, but what did he care, he was a jock and sometimes he didn't know his own strength, right?

He arrives walking for how else would he get here, detention or no detention, it was always walking. He walks with an air of mystery and danger, looking very much like what they pegged him as. A grey army like coat worn and only slightly torn staves off the cold buttoned up to show simple traces of his red flannel shirt underneath. Dark washed jeans hang perfectly off his hips and bag but never excessively the ends tucked into his boots. Cut at the knee and with black biker boots, a red bandana tied messily and almost sloppily upon his right boot his jeans, much like his won attitude, were roughly made. His dark and large aviators hid his tired eyes from the sun as a red clothe like scarf wraps itself around his neck. Slowly he approaches the school stepping in front of the car that jerks into a halt avoiding just barely hitting him, but he doesn't seem to mind, or care for that matter. Soon enough he too is among the few waiting for the door to be unlocked.

Silently, for that is all she is, it surrounds her, is her and loves her, she slips off the car softly placing the door back to make no sound. Standing there in her layers of clothing she stares with curiosity at the students lined up outside a door unopened. She's dressed in all sorts of black and grey hues, never being a fan of anything brighter, her central theme being that of Victorian Goth, but she wasn't that, no far from it. Before she looks down and notices that her car is still there. With hope she walks to the front passenger side only to have the car drive away quickly leaving her in place. Her head snaps back to the four people besides the door luckily no one noticed, but then again when did they, notice her?

It isn't until the odd ball has joined the party of four that the door finally opens, a horrible sight meeting alls eyes, principle Vernon, "Ah, right on time…" his voice dies when he notices that in fact not all of the appointed have arrived just yet. But then suddenly in a roar of raw engine power and music she arrives.

_It's your one way ticket to midnight  
>Call it Heavy Metal<br>Higher than high, feelin' just right  
>Call it Heavy Metal<br>Desperation on a red line  
>Call it Heavy Metal noise<em>

The music continues on for a moment as a figure behind the steering wheel talks to the passanger. There's no way that the person behind the wheel is a student so the person he's driving is the one meant to be here. So all watch on to see just who is assigned the same form of torture as they were.

_Tight pants and lipstick  
>She's riding on razor's edge<br>She holds her own against the boys  
>Yea, cuts through the crowd just like a wedge<br>Ohh, can you feel the static…_

She waits a few more seconds before finally stepping off, no use being early to something she wasn't too eager to be attending. Light golden brown hair cut short, cut short in the back and on the left side it leaving the right side and bangs long but with razored edges. It would have looked off if not for the sufficient amount of styling that she put in. The look was one that they had all seen in magazines and tv screens but no girl was brave enough to wear, for fear of looking 'butch'. But she didn't, she looked wonderfully edgy, sharp and dangerous. A black leather jacket hung on her body neither too tight nor too loose littered with a pleasant amount of dull studs and zippers underneath was a fading grey hoodie. It was open even in the bitter cold of the morning showing the black shirt underneath. The faded maroon scarf made of clothe like material with black Arabian designs wrapped around loosely around her neck distorted the image upon her shirt. Her faded blue jeans hung low on her hips held up by the studded belt she wore. The jeans were both a beautiful mixture of form fitting and loose that it gave them an almost boyish feel. The jeans booth baggy because of their design and the fact that she was a small almost laughable height bagged over her black combat boots that were time worn and gave them that rough feeling.

Slowly she rounds the car going to the drivers side where the man lowers his window. He's a rough looking man one you assumed was a drug runner simply because the look in his eyes told you he was nothing if not shady. Holding out her hand, an almost dainty, ring filled hand, she gives him an expectant look. One the man seems to mumble a curse at before shrugging and fiddling around in his pocket. It takes him merely a few seconds to pull out a wad of cash. Five pairs of eyes seem to widen incredibly as they look on at that insanely huge wad. Slowly almost lazily the man begins to pull a few off counting as he does so all the while placing every bill he took out onto her hand. When he finishes he fully intends to drop the wad back to wherever he had it until the clearign of her throat stops him. Scowling for all the man was worth he grabs yet another chunk of money off the roll and places it in her still awaiting hand.

Grinning like the cat who caught not one but two canary's the girl nods while saying, "Nice doing business with you, as always, Billy!"

"Yeah, yeah..." he waves her off hiding the small smile that spreads on his face, "I'll see you later on tonight kid!"

And just as lowly and abruptly as the car had arrived it left with a puff of screeching tires smoke. The whole exchange they've all witnessed has not by any means left a great impression on the mystery girl.

All but dragging the black bag upon her shoulder she walks slowly up the steps shoving her money into her bag while pulling off the black aviators that swallowed up her face and in turn her beauty. Large eyes, bright and the exact hue of her light golden brown hair, shone even when rimmed with the black liner and the black shadow. Those large almost doe shaped eyes sat upon sharp cheek bones that caused them to slant in an almost animalistic way. Plump cherry red lips sat under a perfectly cute nose pulled into a permanent pout. Carelessly hooking her glasses onto the different array of necklaces hanging around her neck she eyes the group.

And it isn't until then that they've all noticed they were staring, a certain principle as well.

"Ms. Harper, glad you could make it on time this Saturday," Vernon says with a bit of bite in his tone.

A smirk both crude and dazzling dons her face as she says with that husky and raspy voice, "Well you know how it is Rich, can't keep me away from you for too long or my heart will start aching!"

Scowling at her Vernon pushes the door wider allowing them to come into the school. But before they even begin to head into the library, where it is they will for the duration of their punishment Vernon pulls them back with a shout, "Wait!"

Stilling the princess, the jock and even the brain to a halt Vernon says with a condescending tone, "Didn't think I'd let you in with cell phones did I?"

The red head is the only one to voice her opinions, "You mean you expect us to be locked in a library for I don't know how many hours without so much as a cell phone?"

At her pure shock only two snicker, the two who had come to the Saturday tutorial the week before, though not at all friends, "Yes I do Ms. Standish, now come line up over here," he says pointing to a the wall where two of the shadiest kids of the bunch standing awaiting, "I'll be going over you all with this" he says waving a metal detector firmly grasped in his hand.

All but stomping the red head complies followed by two blondes with various of different expressions, ignoring the muttering he hears from the red headed girl he motions over the golden haired girl first, "You know the drill Ms. Harper, hand over all electronics, don't make me search you."

"Richie when have you ever seen me with any electronics?" the girl asks looking indecorously up at the principle.

Repressing the growl of frustration in his chest he grabs the girls bag with a yank, slightly knocking the petite frame off balance somewhat. He rummages through her things only to find a note book, a few books time worn, her lunch and a few other knick knacks his anger riddled mind did not process for their mundane purposes. But still his search does not stop and with a rough yank he pulls her by her shoulder and throws her in the middle of the hall. There's a thick silence as he begins to run the metal detector. A soft condescending laugh spills from the girl he searches every time the detector beeps for all the girl wears is metal, rendering the device useless. So as a last resort, determined to find the girl with something he begins to pat her down.

"Whoa Rich, take me to diner first, at least!" she calls out shoving him away with a force and strength he hadn't expected to be held in that tiny five foot slender frame of hers.

The rest are scanned each found with something to be confiscated until finally he allows them to head over to the library. His hard eyes watch as they file in scattering around for seats but miss how Bender pushes things off the counter and steals a tablet of hall passes. The two best looking of the bunch, or so he personally thinks, Ms. Standish and Mr. Clark seat themselves in the same table, obviously birds of a feather tended to flock together. His gaze carries on watching as the odd one, the one in all black with her ink colored hair covering her face, took the long way over to the far end of the second row. He watches as Bender, such an unruly bastard that he is, forces a small nerd out of his seat and sends him on another seat. He watches as the golden haired girl heads to the back of the first row and seats herself slouching back in boredom.

A resentment grows in him as he takes in the two, the worst of the bunch, sit behind one another, they don't speak or even acknowledge their presence, but tend to gravitate together. After all what was it that he had said about birds?

"Well, well…" Vernon begins clasping his hands before him now no longer holding the metal detector but simple pieces of paper and pencils, "here we are."


	2. Chapter 2

Dior's POV

"Congratulations for being on time…" Vernon begins but is cut off when the schools queen raises her perfectly manicured hand into the air.

"I think there's been a mistake, I know its detention but, uhm…" she pauses tilting her head to the side and softening her tone, "I don't think I belong in here."

Rolling my eyes I drop my bag upon the floor with a dull thud and scoff, uncaring if she or the whole damn world heard it. Oh damn straight this girl, the princess, the rich daddy's girl, didn't belong here! This was a Saturday for fucks sake, she should be out with her friends doing whatever the hell rich girls did on a Saturday, shop no doubt. What the hell did she do to get detention anyway? Break a damn nail, no? did she perhaps were a shirt twice, no again? Wait don't tell me she actually had the balls to cut school and go shopping with her daddy's card, I highly doubt it, princess didn't break rules, self esteems of girls around her yes, but never rules. Can you tell I dislike the girl, is it that balatantly obvious, I sincerly hope so.

"It is now seven o'six," at this I catch a rather tall but lanky boy, a beautiful boy, clean cut and shinning of what America thought was the majority of their youth, perfect and well made, checks his watch eagerly, "you have exactly eight hours and fifty four minutes to think about why you're here and ponder the error of your ways.

At this the boy before me, I know who he is, hell who didn't. He was a loud mouth, a jackass, and at best a troublemaker, at worst a criminal, spits into the air only to catch it easily back into his mouth. I catch the disgust in the princesses face and snicker slightly earning a subtle grin from the criminal when he catches on. His name was John Bender. He'd remained nameless the entirety of half this school year as well as the three before it until just last Saturday. We weren't friends though, even if we'd spent the other Saturday slowly talking, raising hell and getting a rise out of Vernon together. No John didn't make friends and I wasn't about to open myself up to a guy who looked like he disliked the mere idea of my existence. But I didn't people disliking me, it was all people ever felt towards me, that or lust. I didn't understand it nor did I want to begin to do so. Let them hate me for all the wrong reasons, I dont care.

"You may not talk," Vernon says pointing to the princess who stills looks mildly appalled, "you may not move," he says now pointing to the bleach blonde boy exchanging his seat for the one beside him who then promptly moves back, "And you," Vernon tells down to John pulling out the chair in which my criminal _associate_ rests his legs on dropping them in a thud upon the floor, "will not sleep!"

This time addressing everyone Vernon informs us of today's activities, "Alright people were going to try something a little differently today. We are going to write an essay, no less than a thousand words describing to me who you think you are," at this he hands out the papers.

"This a test?" John asks his voice a beautiful mixture of deep darkness and silky bliss; I never knew a voice could sound anything like his did. Well not like I notice his voice or anything, that's just weird, right?

Ignoring John, Vernon continues on, "And when I mean essay I mean _essay_. I do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear Mr. Bender, Ms. Harper?"

John is the only one who answers muttering simply, "Crystal." While I slouched deeper into my seat hoping to get small enough that I disappeared.

"Good." Vernon says while John turns to eye me suspiciously, god why did I have to pick the seat right behind him, why did he force that little nerdy boy out of that seat? John Bender had a sick talent of making me, ME—Dior Harper!—nervous and flustered! Why I don't know and don't wish to, honestly, ignorance is bliss, isn't it? I believe so.

"Maybe you'll learn a little something about yourself," Vernon the pompous ass continues on ranting, caught in a sick monologue I swear to Mary on a pogo stick he's perfected since last Saturday, "Maybe you'll decide whether or not you care to return."

Upon hearing this the clean cut boy rises saying as he does so, "You know sir, I can answer that right now, that be no for me, no because, uh…"

"Sit down Johnson," Vernon demands looking all superior, throwing his weight around, such a sad sight really.

"Thank you sir," the boy offers meekly and quickly sits himself back down.

Pulling my gaze away from the boy I don't miss who John regards the kid, as if disgusted, did he simply hate everything and everyone? Did no one match his highnesses expectances? but whatever the case why did this nerdy little boy look so familiar? Did I know him, have class with him? Hm...

"My office…" Vernon starts, pointing out the open doors of the library to where his office is, as if we don't know, "is right across that hall. Any monkey business is ill advised, any questions?"

"Yeah, I have a question," John says, I was wondering when he'd open his mouth again, the boy never sat silent for too long, "Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?"

No one but myself seems to understand the joke or so I assume because no one else is laughing. God, what is wrong with my generation today, how do you not know who Barry Manilow is, and how funny John's joke really is? Ah, but I digress! Though I try, lamely might I add, I can't suppress the laughter that bubbles out of me. To which only earns me a glare from Vernon and a smirk from John who lazily balances his chair back.

"I'll give both of you the answer to that question, Mr. Bender, Ms. Harper, next Saturday," my laughter slowly dies upon hearing this, and though the fact that I have to come in here yet again bothers me, I don't let it show, weakness is not something I can let show easily, "Don't mess with the bull young man, you'll get the horns."

Pointing both his index at John his pinky at myself he leaves acting like what he said didn't sound stupid coming out of his mouth. Rolling my eyes at him John points lazily at the retreating figure informing us that Mr. Vernon was a brownie hound, to which I have no doubt, but never did I think someone else held the same opinion as I did of the bastard. Silence surrounds all of us as we sit there already bored until we hear the loud popping but clicking sound. Slowly I follow the source of the sound coming upon the sight of a girl dressed in black.

Long skirt of grey came down to her knees continued on by black tights tucked ending at ratty tatty converse. She was a mild mixture of goth and the eighties. I had no complaints about her look; I wasn't one to talk after all, judging and all. The look worked for her because honestly though the bagginess was excessive it was something that was hers and no one else's. Now a day's everyone dressed like red headed Barbie up there, conforming, or selling out. I applauded the girl no matter how freaky she looked. What did worry me was the fact that she was eating her hand.

Noticing the sudden attention on her the girl stills and eyes all under the black bangs of hers that swallow up her face. The look is one of mild confusion turning into a silent question, 'What?'

"If you keep eating your hand you're not going to be hungry for lunch," John says condescendingly.

Before I can even begin to open my mouth and defend the post goth eighties kid she spits at him the nail she bit off. Although a bit gross I simply smirk and turn away capturing John's attention, something you don't want. Those eyes, dark and cold, though void of any emotion seemed to look right through a person. They had the ability to unnerve me in ways no one could. I hated those eyes.

"I've seen you before you know," John tells the girl before turning and pointing an accusing finger at me, "I've seen you too…"

It's not what he's saying but how that always makes me want to shift under his stares. It's as if the tone alone should tell you the double meaning of his words. But I can't bend; no I will not break under his stare. I'd be damned if I did!

"And here I thought you couldn't see me last saturday the entire time we spoke!," I tell him using an air of carelessness, no need to let him in on the fact that I was nervous.

Pulling his eyes away slowly I mentally pat myself on the back for my poker face. It was a damn excellent one. But after all it had to be with all the lying I ever did in my life time. Where the hell would I be without this perfected monster of a thing? Upon looking away I catch a glimpse of Vernon leaning back on his chair peeking in because he's heard some noise over here. Running a hand through his long dark brown straight mane that now brushed his broad shoulders John eyes the bleach blonde. I can't help but wonder what his hair feels look. I know it looks soft, full and healthy, would it feel as it looked?

Shaking my head to rid myself of these thoughts I reach under my desk and feel for a few items. The screech the tape does when I begin to pry it off echoes only in the Library as I quickly rip it off. The noise catches people's attention no matter how slowly or tenderly I pull. But I ignore their questioning stares as I place a silver Zippo upon the table. More pulling of duct tape and out comes a cell soon enough an iPod. Slipping the head phones, but placing only my right ear bud the left discreetly hidden in my layers of clothing, under my maroon Arabian designed clothe like scarf I click on my music. It's set low so that I can both hear if anyone begins to talk to me and so that I don't give myself a headach. Gripping my grey hoodie and pulling it over my short slightly mussed hair I half heartedly sheild the sight of my black headphones from Vernon, should he come in.

"How…" Barbie begins staring at my things in shock.

Shrugging my shoulders I merely say, "I'm like your modern day MacGyver…"

Only John seemed to catch on smirking at me before looking away to slowly pull his scarf off and then his jacket. His motions are fluid even when he pauses slightly to glare at the bleach blonde boy when he finds that they both are doing it at the same time. Rolling my eyes I go back to my new task at hand. Pulling the grey duct tape off completely from my items I roll up the now unneeded items and toss them behind me. Grabbing a hold of my silver Zippo I let its cold seep into my hand as I eye it.

To anyone else looking at it, my Zippo didn't look like anything special. I guess to anyone else it wasn't special, hell it wasn't an all that great looking Zippo either. It was dull years of it being held dulling its once vibrant shine. What time hadn't worn down were the initials engraved into it with imperfect craftsmanship done by a simple pocket knife years ago.

D.H. the initials could easily pass as my own but I knew different. They were _his _because this was once his. Just like these dog tags around my neck were. I was simply holding on to them for him until we met up again, hopefully soon, god I hope it's soon…

"That's not fair!" Princess Barbie shouts pointing at me like I'd wronged her.

Her nasally high pitched annoying voice was enough to break me from my thoughts as I sat there staring down at the Zippo in my hand. Grabbing all my things in a quick sweep I shove my zippo into my front pocket before I drop my cheap, slightly chipped, phone into my agape faded black tote bag. It's old and large slightly holey and rivals that of the odd girl in the corners whose by the way was actually nice looking. I had bought it at a thrift store, as I did all my clothes, as close to new as it got when in the second hand stores but years of having that and only that seemed to tear it up.

"How is it unfair?" I ask with a bored tone meeting that angry stare of hers.

Okay I'll admit, but never out loud, that Barbie was beautiful. How could you sit there and say she wasn't? If you did then you're a liar and I don't want to be around a liar, so hurry off and away with you! Her flaming red hair, natural, or so she says, stands out like blood in the snow. She looks like one of those porcelain dolls and whether I'd like to admit it or not the truth was that she was beautiful! But of course Claire Standish, Shermer High's prom queen to be, was beautiful, wasn't that the point?

"Because…" she stops obviously her brain wasn't the brightest things on her, maybe it didn't work at all, who's to know?

"Because you knew he was going to search you, so you put your things under the table," a voice deep with testosterone calls out before a handsome, I won't lie he's gorgeous, turns to fully eye me with his deep sea blue eyes.

"You say unfair, I say being smart," I tell them with a smirk on my lips leaning back on my chair.

And as suddenly as the attention was on me it was gone, both growing bored with their inane arguing with me. Not that I cared I very much disliked, hate is such a strong word that I only use for certain occasions, preps and their narrow minded ways. Plus I didn't like the prospect of having their stupidity rubbing off on me. Oh and if there was ever a person I hated more than Clair it had to be Andrew Clark. The same asshole who...the same asshole...

Forget it, it's not even worth it. So scowling at the back of his head I merely let the classic tunes of years forgotten where tight jeans, eye liner, shadow, lipstick were for both genders. My mind wandered from me as music infultrated it. Slowly silence creeps up on us once more only to have John chase it away as he usually did, this time though by humming—quite loudly—a familiar tune of 'Sunshine of Your Love' by Cream. Nodding along I tap my fingers upon the table slowly to the beat until we both still at Claire's comment.

"I can't believe this is really happening to me," she tells the boy next to her as if he, and only he, seeing as to how he seemed to inhabit the world where only people like herself lived, shared the same sentiments.

"Oh shit!" John says in a loud whisper as to attract that much more attention, people tended to listen closer when there was whispering involved, haven't you noticed, "What are we supposed to do if we need to take a piss?"

He looks around eyeing each and every one of us as if we'd give him the answer, "Well if you gotta go, you gotta go…"

At that he hunches over and fiddles with his zipper. Whether or not he actually did pull his privates out I don't know, mainly because I'm behind him and I can't see, but he does make a show of it. He hunches over his red flannel long sleeve rising up to show his white wife beater underneath.

Turning in her seat the Barbie gasps muttering, "Oh my god," before turning back away quickly.

"Hey you're not urinating in here man," Andrew declares glaring daggers at John as if that would help.

"Don't talk, don't talk," John demands hastily adding, "It'll make it crawl back up!"

At this I laugh shaking my head as I drop my gaze onto my maroon Arabian designed cloth scarf around my neck still. I would've kept my eyes down and away from what was happening if it wasn't for the next set of words.

"You whip it out your dead before the first drop hits the floor!" Andrew threatens.

Glancing up because after all I am a fan of drama, drama John seems to always be the reason for, I'm interested.

Johns head cranes up but he remains silent for a moment before telling the jock, "You know you're pretty sexy when you get angry! Grrr!"

Stiffening the jock turns around suddenly uncomfortable causing John and myself to laugh, more like snicker.

"Hey home boy," John says over to the bleach blonde he quickly and eagerly looks over to him, "why don't you go close that door, and we'll get the girls," at this he turns to smirk devilish at me, "impregnating."

"Kid I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pool!" I tell him with a huff of air boredly lening my chin upon my hand, my elbow upon the table.

His smirk grows dark as he asks me, "Well from what I hear, all one need's is a few hundreds and you'll do more than touch me with that ten foot pool."

My body stiffens as my eyes are set ablaze with anger. I hear the snarky snickering from the queen bitch, oh I do mean bitch, in the back ground. Pursing my lips slightly I glare at him for all I was worth my hands balling up into tight fists. To say I wanted to kick his ass would be an understatement. I wanted to fucking pound his ass till there was nothign left of that beautiful face left!

"Go fuck yourself, because I sure as hell won't!" I say through gritted teeth.

Chuckling darkly he simply leans in to capture my gaze, "I'd rather have you do it for me doll face."

"Hey!" a voice calls out but John does not break my glare, and though it slightly frightens me I don't back down, even when the fear in me is bubbling, "HEY!"

Because this one is louder and more persistent finally John looks away allowing me to let go the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding, "What?"

"If I lose my temper you're totaled man!" the jock informs John, for some reason backing me up, why I don't know.

Tilting his head to the side John says mockingly, "Totally?"

"Totally," Andrew says with assertion.

"Oh god, why don't you just shut up?" Claire asks spinning around in her seat to glare at John adding, "Nobody here's interested in _that_ anyway!"

I don't miss the way she refers to me and the clear disgust sent my way. I don't falter underneath her obvious resent instead I simply send a grin over her way refusing to let her know how badly those comments, John's included, hurt me. Rolling her eyes at me she quickly spins back around.

"Well hey sporto, what'd you do to get in here?" demands John his tone slightly barred with anger, "Forget to wash your jock?"

"Uh excuse me fellas, I think we should just write our papers," the lanky boy interjects getting completely ignored by those he's trying to talk to.

"Look just because you live in here doesn't give you a right to be a pain in the ass," the jock glares angrily, "so knock it off!"

"Well it's a free country," John says in a condescending tone.

"Lucky for you," I mutter under my breath getting a small smirk sent my way by a wayward girl in black who seemed to be the only one whom heard me.

"He's doing it just to get a rise out of you, just ignore him!" red headed Malibu Barbie says to the jock making him turn around in his seat once more.

Flipping his gorgeous mane back and away from his face John says almost dangerously, "Sweet's, you couldn't ignore me if you tried."

Oh now that had to be the god given truth. John Bender was nothing if not a pain in ones god damn ass! He knew just what made a person tick, what made them angry and what hurt them. I'd call it a talent if I didn't think of it as a curse to those who suffered under it. Myself being one of the many victims.

Rolling her eyes the red head turns away jutting her chin out in defiance. Through the corner of my eye I watch as the girl in black shifts in her seat to watch what entertains me so.

"So…" John starts almost whimsically before it turns hard with a goal suddenly in mind, "So, are you guys like girlfriend, boyfriend?"

No answer, but this has never stopped John before, or so I've noticed.

"Steady dates?" he asks feigning innocence.

Again no answer.

"_Lovers_?"

Dropping his voice to an almost sultry, wanton tone he asks, "Come on Sporto, level with me. Did you slip her the hot beef injection?"

At this both the preps turn around to either shout 'ENOUGH' or 'GO TO HELL!' earning a shout from Vernon who says something or the other, I don't care enough to listen. I'm too busy laughing my ass off from the obvious anger on both the preps faces. The lips of the silent girl quirk up before she looks away and before John turns to shoot me a triumphant smile. My laughter dies as silence ensues us once more only to be—yet again—broken by John.

Rising from his seat he goes to sit upon the railing looking bored before thinking more than saying to anyone in particular, "What do you say we close that door? We can't have any kind of party with Vernon checking us out every few seconds."

"Well you know the doors supposed to stay open," the blonde boy says timidly with no real assertion behind his voice.

Scrounging up his face with a mixture of emotions John asks with a shrug of his shoulders, "So what?"

"So, why don't you just shut up! There's five other people in here you know!" the jock tells John.

"God, you can count!" John announces feigning happiness, "See, I knew you had to be smart to be a…a wrestler!"

"Who the hell are you to judge anybody?" The jock demands obviously John hit a nerve.

As if anyone was speaking to her Claire, the demoness, speaks up sneering, "Really…"

"You know Bender, you don't even count!" Andrew goes on to say making the idle smirk on my lips fall, "I mean if you disappeared forever it wouldn't make any difference!" upon hearing this something in me stirs, angry and vile it stirs, "You may as well not even exist at this school!"

Standing up slowly I pretend I don't see the hurt in those always playful eyes, I pretend like I don't feel the lurch in my chest and move forward towards the asshole willing to spew shit like that out of his mouth. My combat boots issue dull thuds upon the grey carpet as I move forward drawing attention of others around me. Stilling beside the ass I move over and hop onto the table beside them glaring daggers down at him.

"And what about me, does that count for someone like me?" I ask innocently my voice leveled and calm, betraying how I felt inside.

The red head simply rolls her eyes muttering a 'obviously' under her breath while the jocks eyes darken saying nothing. But it's in the silence that I know his answer, I receive it loud and clear.

"Well I'll just run right out and join the wrestling team!" John announces with a tilt of his head.

"Maybe even the prep club too!" I add on when they laugh spitefully at John.

"The student council…" John says trailing off.

Shaking his head and laughing still the jock tells us both, "No they wouldn't take you!"

John is the only one to answer telling him with mock pain, "I'm hurt."

"You know why guys like you knock everything?" Malibu Barbie asks suddenly one with powerful insight, who knew!

"Oh this should be stunning," John mumbles.

Rolling my eyes I mutter with dark sarcasm, "I bet!"

"It's 'cause you're afraid," Claire tells us with confidence and hints of pity.

The anger I feel in me John expresses in dry sarcasm, "Oh god, you richies are so smart, that's exactly why I'm not heavy in activities!"

"You're a big coward," she continues unfazed by his retorts.

"I'm in the math club," a voice suddenly speaks up from beside me but goes on ignored.

Continuing as if she was right and as if those around her cared about what she says, "See you're afraid that they won't take you. You don't belong so you just have to dump all over it."

"Well it wouldn't have anything to do with you activities people being assholes now would it?" John asks leaving me to snort in agreement and glare outright at the red head.

"Well you wouldn't know, you don't even know us," the girl defends as if she truly knew the kinds of people she lotted herself with.

"Like that would make a fucking difference," I say with venom and march over to my seat.

Missing the smirk John sends my way he continues on to tell the princess, "Well I don't know lepers either, but I'm not gunna run out and join one of their fucking clubs."

"Lets watch the mouth alright?" the jock shouts chivalry not completely dead as I'd thought.

As a brief moment of silence over took them, probably a mini glare down, until John yet again breaks it calling over to me with a, "Are you in any clubs Sweets?"

'Sweets' it was always some asinine pet name or the other. Why he did it I don't know, he knows my name, but refuses to use it. I'll never understand what happens behind those dark black eyes. But I won't ever tell anyone how much it makes my stomach knot up with sick glee when he says it.

"No I am not _Babe_," I toss back at him not one to miss a beat, plopping down ungracefully in my chair I eye him from afar taking in his wide smirk.

"I'm in the physics club too," again that same voice breaks in.

"_'Scuse_ me a second sweetheart," he tells me before turning and staring expectantly at the nerd on the other side of the library, "What are you babbling on about?"

"Well what I'd said was I'm in the math club, the latin club and the physics club…" the boy tells John politely and timidly, correcting himself when he'd miss pronounced the word 'physics'.

Directing his attention to the princess John asked with mock politeness, "Hey, cherry do you belong to the physics club?"

Making a face at both the statement and the name calling Claire replies smoothly, "That's an academic club."

Shrugging his shoulders John pushes on, his face blank, but his dark eyes dancing with mirth, "So?"

"Well academic clubs aren't the same as other kinds of clubs," she announces carelessly bringing a soft snort from me and a triumphant beautiful smirk from John.

"Ah but to dorks like him they are," to this she simply rolls her eyes but he continues on directing his next question to the boy, "What do you guys do in your club?"

Struggling the boy answers stumbling over his words but eventually getting his answer across to whomever was left listening.

"So it's sort of social, demented and sad, but social right?" he asks the red head glaring down at her but keeping a playful smirk on his lips.

Refusing to meet the fury in John's eyes I look over to see the boy still rambling, "—a big banquet at the end of the year, at the Hilton."

"So you load up, you party," John says by way of simpler explanations.

"No, we get dressed up, but we don't, uh, get high," the boy corrects softly.

"Only burners like you get high," the princess says bringing out an all out laugh from me.

"Oh the hypocrisy!" I shout up into the air for all or no one to hear, it didn't matter, it never did.

"Excuse me?" the red head asks turning to fully glare at me.

"You'd be surprised how many of _your_ friends actually do worse things than simply getting high," I tell her with a crooked grin that was all my own, nothing forced, nothing faked just me and mine.

"Look, you guys keep up your talking and Vernon's gunna come right in here. I got a meeting this Saturday and I'm not gunna miss it on account of you bone heads!" said the Jock threateningly.

Finally breaking the stare fixed upon me, for I could feel its weighted self pressed onto me, he turns to tease the jock, "And wouldn't that be a bite huh? Missing a whole wrestling meet?"

Growing stiff Andrew shoots back, "Well you wouldn't know anything about it, faggot! You've never competed a day in your whole life."

Feigning a look of total heartbreak John says with a voice riddled with sadness, "Oh, I know. I feel all empty inside because of it. I have such a deep _admiration_ for guys who roll around on the floor with other guys."

Laughing I stare at the back of a sandy blonde head as he begins to pivot in his chair to glare down a smirking John.

"Ah you'd never make it. You don't have any goals!" Andrew tells him with an air that says I'm-so-much-better-than-you'll-ever-be.

A smirk grows wide on Johns handsome face, how was it that he was so handsome, it isn't right, before he says, "Oh, but I do!"

"Yeah?" the jock asks rhetorically for he knows its painfully obvious this is all just a joke to John.

"I wanna be just- like -you!" he tells him looking as if he's just had the world's best news given to him, "I figure all I need's a lobotomy and some tights!"

The jock grows stiff as the nerd perks up asking with not so silent awe in his voice, "You wear tights?"

"No, I don't wear tights! I wear the required uniform." The jock tells the nerd with a bit of bite in his tone and a subtle glare.

"Tights?" the nerd concludes.

"Shut up!" the jock yells growing angry causing me to laugh louder than before making John's smirk grow ever wider.

Then suddenly there's a noise causing John to jump from the railing and seat himself between the princess and the jock, Shermers pride and joys. Glancing forward my golden eyes take in the sight of Vernon moving about carelessly missing the fact that John was in fact in the wrong seat. Clasping his hands together John dons the look of innocence before Vernon leaves out of sight. Scooting out and making animal noises he gets up and out of his seat quickly rushing over to the door all the while everyone, myself included, stared on with curiosity. Everyone shouts for him to sit back down and quote 'Stop screwing around' but John being John he doesn't listen.

Turning and briefly walking backwards John asks with mock authority in his voice, "young man have you finished your paper?"

Fiddling with the door they shout at him to stop but he doesn't listen. When the door shuts close he runs back to his seat and becomes the innocent saint that he isn't. The jock and the princess yell trying to get him to 'fix it' but he simply hushes them with simple words like shut up. I laugh causing John to spin around in his seat and hold out his large hand to me. Holding out my own he drops the screws into my considerably smaller palm and says with a grin:

"Here you are babe, got you a little something, you know since it's our one week anniversary and all!"

Rolling my eyes at him I wrap my hand around the screws and mutter with heavy sarcasm, to which he simply grins wider, "Oh sweetie you shouldn't have!"

Smirking at each other I shove the screws into my leather jacket pocket.

"God damn it!" Vernon's shout can be heard in the hall before he busts through the door demanding to know who closed the door, "Why is that door closed?"

"How are we supposed to know, we're not supposed to move right?" John asks ducking his head low almost submissively.

Switching his glare over to the red head he asks angrily and demandingly, "Why is that door closed?"

Clair hesitates for a full second before replying softly, "We were just sitting here like we were supposed to."

"Perhaps a screw fell out," John adds helpfully.

Causing me to laugh at Vernon to which he glares and marches over to me and towers above.

"Give it to me," Vernon he demands from me sternly.

Shaking my head I say softly losing my smirk to replace it with mock innocence, "I'm sorry sir but I don't have it."

Growing tired and more aggravated by the second Vernon threatens flicking me on the head and causing me to flinch in fear, a horrible repercussion of life at the Harper home, "Do you want me to yank you out of that chair and shake it out of you?" when I don't answer he turns over to John and demands, "Give it to me Bender!"

"I don't have it," John says adding, "screws fall out all the time. The worlds an imperfect place."

"Give it to me Bender?" he demands once more.

"Excuse me sir but who would want to steal a screw," Barbie-Claire interjects trying to cover for us both to which we are both equally startled by.

Smirking I turn over to Vernon and quote her from before with equally as much spite as when she had originally said it, "Really…"

"Hey!" Vernon shouts turning to glare at me alone as if I had been the one to say anything he says warningly, "Watch it young lady!"

Rolling my large doe shaped eyes I heave a sigh and asks, "Or what, you'll give me yet another detention? C'mon Richie you know I'd volunteer all my off days to detention if it only meant seeing you dressed so…_sharply_."

"You just earned yourself another Saturday's detention!" he shouts growing flustered by my insults.

Capturing my bottom lip between my teeth I feign a hurt look and sigh as I place a hand over my heart, "Oh no!" my voice thick with mock hurt.

Turning his attention over to the now broken door Vernon leaves determined to right it any which way he could. The expression drops from my face as soon as the man turns his back going back to its bored and weary ways. Glancing up I fail to miss the look sent my way by the princess and the criminal. I also don't fail to miss the way John rearranges his seat so that he can take in both Vernon and myself, I ignore it because I'd be more than just a tiny bit unsettled if I thought about it more than need be. Ignoring the concern in the dark eyes usually glowing with mirth I look over and watch as Vernon makes a spectacle out of himself. Failing at the foldable chair/ door stopper he cusses and calls out: 'Andrew Clark.'

"Hey, how come Andrew gets to get up? If he gets up, we'll all get up, it'll be anarchy!" John shouts just trying to be an ass and succeeding, turning so that he eyes me when he realizes I'm still staring at him—why _am_ I always staring at him—he says with a devastatingly handsome smirk, "It's out of my hands Baby."

"It appears so," I mutter refusing to allow the heat on my face to become a blush.

"Uh, that's very clever sir, but what if there's a fire?" John shouts levelly, "I think violating fire codes and endangering the lives of children would be unwise in this juncture of your career."

At this Vernon snaps his fingers at Andrew scolding him as if the whole idea was his fault and he had no hand in it, "Hey, what are you doing, what are you doing? Get this out of here, god!"

Not bothering to hold back I laugh truly heartfelt laugh and not sniggers or anything as such. The soft chimes of my laughter spilled out into the air and gaining everyone's attention. Covering my mouth with a dainty hand I bury my face as laughter racks my body. I miss the curious glances sent my way by a certain criminal in red. I miss how those dark eyes brighten and I miss what the nerd has to say.

"Well you know the school comes equipped with fire exits at either end of the library," he says making hands motions to accentuate his point.

Forcing his eyes from my laughing figure, with what looked like hints of reluctance, John says heatedly, "Show, Dick, some respect!"

Laughter slowly dies as Vernon pushes Andrew forward and tells him with hints of venom, "I expected a little more from a varsity leather man."

Curiously I watch as the statement sinks into Andrew. The way he becomes stiff and he radiates an air of anger.

"You two aren't fooling anybody, Harper, Bender. The next screws that fall out are going to be you two," Vernon says pointing with his pinky at one of us and his index with the other.

Rolling my eyes in a puff I watch as it aggravates Vernon and causes him to come at me with a devils fury.

"You got something to say?" he demands from me.

"If I had something to say, I can assure you, I'd let you know immediately Richie," I say through a tight smirk.

"That's another Saturday detention Harper!" he yells down at me.

Though I wouldn't let anyone know any different the fact that I was coming here did bother me, but for different reasons from the rest. It bothered me because I actually found this place as my haven. My retreat, a place where nothing from my home, work or life could touch me here. Saturday detention was a place where I could simply relax and let everything fades into a nonexistent flicker. But being able to get away meant I left her alone, with pointy objects, in danger of herself. So while I did enjoy an escape from both my work place and my hellish home I couldnt keep coming here.

"Oh no not another one!" I say uncaring trying to quell the anger building up in me. I wasn't too happy he was threatening me.

"That's another one right there!" Vernon shouts with glee.

Pursing my lips at him I tell him, "Richie honestly, do you think I fucking care?"

"Oh, that's another one right there missy!" he announces.

"Please not another day of doing absolutely nothing!" I tell him glaring at him for all I was worth.

Pursing his own lips Vernon glares down at me and says, "You just got yourself another one."

"Well that's only five you wanna bet I can make it up to six?" I ask softly.

He's silent for a moment before an evil grin spreads on his face, "You know what I think I'll just have your _mother _come in…"

My blood runs cold at the prospect of this. My face drops and while I wish I didn't feel so damn afraid I can't shake the fear that rumbles through my chest.

"Yeah you know I might even call her, let her know how _well_ you're doing!" he says never disappointing and turning to stare at both John and I, "You know you two are truly disappointing."

Muttering under his breath and leaning casually back John says, "Eat my shorts."

Upon hearing this Vernon marches up to him and towers over him by way of intimidation, "What was that?"

Apparently not one to back down from a challenge John says louder and slower so that Vernon could catch it, "Eat…My…Shorts."

"You just bought yourself another Saturday," Vernon informs him.

Mimicking someone who actually cared John tells him sarcastically, "Ooh, I'm crushed."

"You just bought another one right there!" Vernon says yet again.

"Well, I'm free the Saturday after that. Beyond that, I'm going to have to check my calendar!" John says leaning upon his table lazily.

Why the hell John was doing this I don't know. But I was scared for him. He didn't tell me, no one did, I can see it in his eyes. The way he walks and talks, the simple way he carries himself, and in that cold hard stare of his. There's something dark in his home, like there is in mine, perhaps that is why I can spot the look from a mile away, but I wonder what it is. Shouldn't he be as worried as I was with what was about to happen when suddenly his parents caught wind of this? All I could think about was the call Vernon would make because he never failed to do so. I couldn't help but slightly panic at the thought of my mother having another episode, alone, in the house where sharp objects were lying about. My heart quickened and my mind ran away with me as I grew more than just fearful.

"Good, cause their going to filled. We'll keep going." Vernon informs him watching as John's face contorts to that of anger no longer the joking expression he constantly wears, "You want another one? Just say the word, say it. Instead of going to prison you'll come here. Are you through?"

"No!" John says vindictively.

"I'm doing society a favor," Vernon announces.

Making a face that says who-gives-a-shit John replies smoothly, "So?"

"That's another one right now! I've got you for the rest of your natural born life if you don't watch your step. You want another one?" Vernon asks.

"Yes!" John says angrily through gritted teeth.

"You got it! You got another one right now! That's another one pal!" Vernon announces with hints of glee in his tone.

Placing a timid hand on John's shoulder I watch as he quickly turns around and eyes me. Without uttering a word I silently plead wishing for him to stop. But it didn't stop him instead he simply smiles that smirk of his—cold and emotionless—while his eyes swirled with something I couldn't comprehend.

"You through?" Vernon asks eyeing him back with equal intensity.

"Not even close _bud_," Bender slurs as if the word itself was the worst kind of insult as he turns away from me pulling away from my hand slowly.

"Good! You got another one right there!"

Eyeing him with a murderous air to him John says softly but with no less intensity it would have held if he had shouted it, "You really think I give a shit?"

Refusing to break the stare Vernon declares, "Another! You through?"

Quirking his head to the side Bender asks thoughtfully, "How many is that?"

"That's seven including when we first came in and you asked whether Mr. Vernon knew if Barry Manilow knew that he raided his closet," the boy says helpfully.

"Now its eight! You stay out of this," Vernon warns glaring at John.

"Excuse me sir, it's seven." The timid voice rings again as he holds up his hands to accentuate his point.

"Shut up, peewee!" Vernon yells now directing his anger and his glare to the blonde boy.

All falls silent until the soft rasp of my is heard again asking slowly almost lazily fueled by my anger, "Excuse me, Mr. Vernon?"

Turning to glare at me now he shouts, "What?

As much as I wanted to stay quiet, remain still and hopeful that if I did so he'd completely forget about the phone call or the visit, I didn't. I picked my head up to a tilt and eyed the bastard glaring down at me. For some reason unknown to myself I didn't want John in trouble. I didn't want him to have to go through remotely close to what I would have to once I got home. So I spoke up getting all attention away from him so that maybe Vernon took out his anger on me and me alone, after all I was used to being the scapegoat.

"How horribly insignificant is your position in your own life that you feel you have to bully and even harass the students you're supposed to be bettering?" I ask my voice cold, hard, and empty even to my own ears. I sounded…just like…her.

"E-excuse me?" Vernon struggled for a moment staring in shock at me.

Shrugging my shoulders I continue on as if the words coming from my lips weren't horribly insulting ones, "I mean is it because you can no longer _function_ correctly that this is the only way you find…_release_? I wonder Richie…"

Shock echoed in all but fury in only one as Vernon marched up to me slammed his fist down on the table and bellows down, "You have two months detention young lady!"

Snorting a very unlady like snort I toss my head to the side and say over to the still shocked John smirking as I did so, "Guess we'll be spending a bit more time together Sweets."

Huffing Vernon pulls away and glares down at both of the worst in the bunch and says, "You're mine, both of you, for two months I got ya!"

Rolling his eyes John replies dryly, "What can I say, I'm thrilled!"

"Yeah I bet that's exactly what you want these people to believe, you know something Bender. If you spent a little more time trying to do something with yourself and a little less time trying to impress people you both might be better off!" Vernon says eyeing everyone before saying with force, "Alright that's it! The next time I have to come in here," the next few words were mimicked by a sour looking John, "I'm cracking skulls."

The moment the door slams behind Vernon time seems to almost slow before John shouts, "FUCK YOU!"

Heaving a sigh all I mutter under my breath before dropping my head into my awaiting arms is, "And your mother too."


	3. Chapter 3

J.B. POV

Time went slowly almost as if at a complete stand still. The more one tried not to think about time the more it consumed our minds. I refused to look at the clock but then that was all my eyes ever found, if not for the golden haired girl behind me. Golden eyes had long since shut whether or not she was asleep I do not know. But it's not like I care, or even notice things about her, not like I care that she looks like she's been run ragged. The bags under her beautiful eyes marred her creamy skin. For a good while even after Vernon's departure and after my sad little jokes hoping to cheer her up she remained still shaken up. To see her like that was unsettling. But why did I care, I didn't, or so I like to think, she was just a heart shaped face girl with eyes that could dim and sparkle depending on her emotions. She looked just as broken as I felt inside, cliché yes but a truthful cliché. Having had my cigs picked up by Vernon when he searched up I had nothing to do so I watched with curiosity the way the golden haired beauty lip sang the songs she listened to, her face lighting up and showing a various array of emotions, at times she even smiling, I wonder did she know she was doing this. She was tiny I noticed finally looking past the hard exterior she liked to put up. Not only short but tiny too almost frail looking as if you held her just wrong she'd crumble in your arms. But being thin and lithe did not mean she was curve less and skin and bones as most girls tried to be these days. No she was curved in every way a woman, not a girl, was supposed to be curved. But her heart shaped face riddled with almost pixie like qualities made her seem almost surreal. There was a raw sense of innocence lost in those never ending pools of translucent honey, a hue just as odd and nearly matching that of her hair. Whether I liked to admit it or not I enjoyed the time—little as it may be—I spent with her, she was smart, witty and always held her own. I especially enjoyed getting a rise out of her. I loved watching as her face crinkled up with anger and her eyes were set ablaze.

But as strange as it was to like everything that was her, I couldn't help but hate her. Not her, per say, but what she represented. I knew girls like her, girls like my mother who used their bodies to get whatever they wanted. I'd heard of the countless rumors around her but I didn't believe them, still have trouble doing so because they were so...intense, until today. Because no matter how much I refused to judge people upon their appearence like they did to me but it was hard not to. Why else did a girl get paid a wad of money and hang around with such shady guys—as if I was one to judge right—if she wasn't _that_. But I'll get it out of her one way or the other, I plan on doing so.

As to not look painfully obvious that all I was looking at was the small figure behind me I glanced around the room. I liked to people watch, a past time I spent most of my life doing. It was how I came to talk to Dior, I noticed her across the room last Saturday's detention and spoke to her. But then again she and I were the only people in last Saturdays detention so it was pretty obvious why I talked to her at first, boredom. At first she was apprehensive about doing so, obviously shy, but eventually began to joke with me. She spoke to me in ways most didn't, unafraid of whatever they thought I'd do to them. She matched my crude jokes with worse off ones and didn't mind having to go toe to toe with me. Auburn eyes that were dangerously close to the color her hair was remained forever glued to the lanky boy who seemed to be in an intellectual rut, trying but failing to write anything upon his paper. Andrew found entertainment in his sweaters strings if only for a moment but quickly went to fold his paper into a makeshift football. Flicking it into the air he silently cheered as if it had scored any kind of points and not landed deadly upon the floor. The odd girl in all hues of black tied a thread around her finger watching as it turned various shades of blue and then purple. They were odd, each and every last one of them, but hell I wasn't one to judge I couldn't admit my own damn feelings even to myself!

But eventually all grew sleepy and followed the golden eyed girls lead, if in fact she was sleeping at all, falling deep into slumber. Laying down upon the table of my golden eyed oddity I allow the image of her peaceful face to be the last thing I see before I fall into my sleep.

"Wake up!" but no movement is made so instead using the same harsh tone he asks, "Who has to go to the lavatory?"

Upon hearing the question all six hands shoot up.

(When in the restroom)

A.R. POV

She was quiet as she silently rearranged herself in the mirror. She shot me several sheepish glances as she eyed herself. It wasn't that she was being vain like most girls were when staring at themselves for this long. No, it was more like she was making sure there were no visible marks of her past. No one could see what she saw and for that reason alone she tried that much harder to hide whatever haunted her. Sitting upon the sink I wait patiently eyeing her and her actions, always the silent observer that I am, waiting for when she decided enough was enough.

The girl, first name still unknown, Harper was strange looking. Her close hung in a delicate balance of androgynous. It was both form fitting yet baggy. There was a tough street life quality that both rendered you star struck and weary of her. Her golden hair was cut short on the back and upon her left side of her head. The right side falling down to brush just below her perfect jaw line. Her bangs blended into the rest of her hair cut in almost jagged ways, but I assume that was purposely done. Her black nailed hands slowly run through the bits of hair ruffling them up to give them a messy bed head feel while her eyes scanned her face but always found their way back to the tattoo on left side of her neck. I'd been staring at it since she walked into the library. It was bright and colorful against her pale skin. It stood out because it was strange yet perfectly beautiful. I knew what it was, a Koi fish, but why she had one I don't know. I wonder did she know the meaning to it or did she simply do as most stupid people did, simply get it because it looked pretty.

Did she know that the reason why Koi's were tattooed were because of the myth's behind it. In both Chinese and Japanese myths the Koi's represented perseverance in the face of adversity and strength of character or purpose. The Koi through their efforts were able to climb waterfalls or become dragons. So naturally they represented things as such. But I wonder did she know this? Her brightly Koi was made up by bright hues of orange, red and hues of pink and purple. It looked beautifully detailed and I wonder did it hurt terribly? Littered with blue wisps, no doubt representing the water in which it struggled, and bright pink petals of Sakura leaves, representing the beautiful yet fleeting existence of all things. Slowly the wisps and pink petals traveled from around the Koi upon her neck to the crook of her shoulder and necks meeting. It traveled a bit lower before fading under the black shirt. Slowly as if feeling eyes upon her she wraps her maroon scarf back around her neck hiding the beautiful image from view.

I wish to ask her something, anything really, about her tattoo but I am interrupted. Out walked the schools reigning queen bee dressed to the nines in brand named items from one of the bathroom stalls. She was rich, all knew that, but did she have to be so blatantly obnoxious about it? There was no need to get that dressed up for school, was there? I simply tossed on whatever was clean whether or not it matched.

"Can I help you?" the golden brown haired girl asks noticing the stare the princess sends her way.

Disgust filtered through the princess perfect features before she turned away and muttered under her breath, "Slut."

The princess failed to miss the way the comment seemed to strike some horrible gaping wound in golden eyes but I did. It was odd to see such raw hurt in a person's eyes. It was so intense that I couldn't help but want to wrap my arms around the small girl and hold her until all pain vacated those hypnotizing eyes. Reaching out to grab a hold of her shoulder I watch silently as she jumps and never says a word of the fear that flashes through her eyes before she realizes its me.

Tilting her head to the side she glances up at me, being considerably shorter than me—and everyone since she's only five feet tall—she has to look up as she speaks to me, "Oh hey, whats your name?"

My throat suddenly runs dry as I shakily say, "Allison, yours?"

Grinning a beautiful grin she holds out her hand, small and ring filled I take it, "Dior, it's nice to meet you Ally!"

And though her nickname for me caused a slight blush to stain my cheeks I refused to break under her gaze. Slowly we both leave the restrooms side by side as if we were the best of friends and this was extremely normal. Passing by the boys I notice the various stares we receive. My black bangs help shield me from them but I see them perfectly.

Usually glowering and a more than just a tad bit menacing John Bender leaned against a wall. He was outright glaring at the handsome jock until he caught sight of the girl beside me. His glare vanished replaced with genuine concern until he shook it off and forced his eyes away. Remaining silent, like I always did, I simply followed Dior out my mind whirling only slightly.

(Back at the library)

Brian POV

"You know that's real intelligent," Andrew says angrily watching as the criminal destroyed yet another book carelessly.

"Yeah you're right it's wrong to destroy literature," he says mockingly but continues on, "its such fun to read and _Mo-lay_ really pumps my nads!"

"It's Moliere," Claire says haughtily.

Offering only an empty smirk he shouts out to the golden haired girl spinning her pencil upon the desk and looking as bored as anyone could look, "Did you hear that Sweets, it's Moliere!"

"So I heard babe," she says without skipping a beat fighting off the blush that no one sees only because she ducks her face down.

I knew her, having had fourth period French with her, Dior Harper. She was barely passing the class but like Bender I assume she doesn't really care.

"I love his work," I say only to get papers thrown at me.

"Well there's nothing to do when you're locked in a vacancy," Bender says begrudgingly.

"Yeah speak for yourself," Andrew shoots back only to receive some insults from the ever eager to give them Bender.

Making a face Bender asks rhetorically, "Do you think I'd speak for you, I don't even know your language." After that he proceeds in rearranging the date cards the librarian puts into the books when their checked out.

Scowling Andrew looks away only to ask Claire, "Hey, you ground tonight?"

Shrugging Claire says softly, "I don't know my mom said I was but my dad said just to blow her off."

"Well theres a big party at Stubby's tonight, his parents are away at Europe," he says before adding, "Should be pretty wild. Can you come?"

Though I know its nothing and probably just a trick of my sight after having read so many books in what I could only describe as candle light I see her. She flinches at something, freezes and stiffens in fear. Her eyes grow wide as her hands clench the pencil she holds in her hand. Looking away as to not look like a dumbass who's seeing things I catch the concern in Bender's eyes as he too looks onward at the golden haired girl. Concern, in Bender's eyes? Maybe I am going blind, that or crazy.

"I doubt it," Claire says whimsically with a wave of her hand.

"Why not?" Andrew asks the question for me for I would never have enough courage to do so.

"Because if I do what my mother tells me not to do it's because my father said it was okay. It's just this huge monster deal, it's endless, a total drag, any minute now divorce," she states as if the most normal thing in the world to be _used_ like that.

And then like nothing had ever been wrong with her, because I highly doubt there had been, the ruffian girl stands and then sits herself upon the table across Claire. For a minute she simply stares at Claire as if trying to process something through her mind before asking point blankly:

"Who do you like better?"

Confusion mars the flawless face of Claire before she asks unsure, "W-what?"

"Do you like your mother more than you do your father?" Dior asks still dressed in both her leather jacket and grey hoodie, not looking one bit heated in the warm air of the library, genuine curiosity and not with the usual malice in her voice.

"They're both screwed, "Claire answers honestly with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Well if they did get a divorce who would you choose to go with," her voice was a quiet rasp accentuating the fact that she had a husky voice rather than the high pitched ones that most girls had.

For a moment Claire is quiet, thinking, until finally saying, "I don't know, I'd probably just go live with my brother," pausing she turns to fully look into golden hued eyes speaking to her levelly and as calmly as she could, "I don't think either one of them gives a shit about me, it's like they use me to get back at each other."

And then suddenly a loud "HA!" echoes into the air. All heads—save a golden head whose is ducked down slightly—snap back to watch as the silent basket case blows air into her bangs.

As arguments ensue between the ever bickering Bender and Andrew as I watch with mild interest the way the girl slips from the desk and slinks back behind the statue. For a moment I forget all about whats going on running on instincts until I hear him insulting me.

"—I mean what would you be doing if you weren't out making yourself a better citizen?" he asks with venom laced in his words.

"Why do you have to insult everybody?" Andrew asks surprisingly standing up for me.

Looking aggravated on his way to the wayward ghost that was the small girl Bender stops and says through gritted teeth, "I'm being honest, asshole, I'd expect you to know the difference!"

"Well he's got a name!" Andrew tells him.

With heavy sarcasm Bender simply asks, "Yeah?"

"Yeah!" turning towards me Andrew asks, "What's your name?"

"Brian," god I sound pathetic even to my own ears.

Glaring back at Bender Andrew tells him triumphantly, "See?"

"My condolences," Bender mutters before retreating away to the front of the library obviously forgetting why he was headed behind the statue in the first place.

"What's your name?" Claire asks Bender suddenly one for conversation.

"What's yours?" he asks loudly like he's trying to receive attention from elsewhere.

"Clair," the princess answers with ease suddenly eager to speak with the ruffian.

"Ka-Lare?" Bender asks dragging out her beautiful name into something most vile.

"Claire, it's a family name," she says with ease and a bit of pride.

"No," Bender begins ducking his head down low to say the next part, "That's a fat girls name."

Anger wells up in me but that's understandable seeing as to how the girl I've had a crush on since elementary is being insulted before me. And worse off by a guy who probably was the son of an alcoholic and a whore, probably couldn't read either.

Pursing her lips Claire tells him, "Well, thank you."

"You're welcome," he says condescendingly.

"I'm not fat!" she declares, of course she wasn't, the mere insinuation was ludicrous.

"Well not at present but I could see you really pushing maximum density!" he says with a smirk, "You see I don't know if you know this, but there are two kinds of fat people." He informs her to which Claire looks genuinely confused, "There's fat people that are born to be fat, and then there's fat people who were once thin but became fat, so when you look at them you can kind of see that thin person inside! You see you're gunna get married, squeeze out a few puppies and then…" he says making the motion of a person becoming bloated and then finally exploding until Claire flips him the bird, "Oh, obscene finger gestures from such a pristine girl!"

"I'm not that pristine!" Claire defends, rightly so, she was not, or wasn't underneath it all.

To this all the leather wearing girl can do is issue a scoff. Glancing her way I take in the exasperated look on her beautiful face as she sits herself back down in her seat. There was something dark veiling her eyes almost as if she were battling something within herself, something dark and twisted. It was a look battered alley cats had when you held your hand out to them. She, like the alley cat, would most likely attack than take whatever help was offered

"Are you a virgin? I bet you a million dollars that _you_ are," the question snapped my head back around to stare wide eyed at Bender silencing everyone in the room. Slowly like a lethal black panther in the jungle slinking around for it's prey he stalks over to the suddenly stiff figure in leather, "How 'bout you Sweet's, you a virgin? Let's end the suspense! Is it going to be a white weddin'?"

"Oh please, you and I both know that slut bag is far from a _virgin_," Claire says in a sneer.

Twisting around Dior glares intensly at Claire, if looks could kill she'd be six feet under by now. No words were exchanged as she looked away back up to Bender pleading, almost.

"Shut up," her voice is edged and hard as she stares him down refusing to back down.

But Bender is unyielding going on like the ass that he was, "Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth?" the girl made no move to say anything just glared up at him, "Have you ever been felt up?" something dark crosses those usually vibrant eyes, unseen or ignored by the tyrant towering above her, "Over the bra, under the blouse, shoes off…hoping to god your parents don't walk in."

Again he is met with no answer just a glare that demands him to stop wordlessly.

"Over the panties, no bra, blouse unbuttoned, Calvin's in a ball in the front seat past eleven on a school night?" his voice is low dripping with something much darker than it had been when he had started talking.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" shouted Andrew startling everyone even the terrified short haired girl caught like a fly in a spiders web.

Andrew POV

I knew of her, hell who didn't, there were hundreds if not thousands of rumors about her. She went by many labels but many centered around her being…for lack of better terms, easy. A whole bunch of my wrestling buddies swear they've slept with her others claiming they were there when it happened. Some people were saying she was charging like a real hooker. Of course whether any of these rumors were true I don't know, I did know however it was none of my business. But seriously you can't blame me for believing bits of it. Especially not after my best friend, or so he called himself that, Stubby showed me those…pictures.

But looking at her all I see is a girl who looks as if she can out drink me any day at a party. She looks more likely to beat the shit out of me than sleep with me. So why how, or why she was easy I don't know. To each their own, right? But easy or not Bender was a peice of shit that pissed me off to no end. It wouldn't have mattered who he was picking on not Claire nor Brian, the weird chick in the corner, it didn't matter. Bender was a douche

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" I shout at him suddenly before him whereas I had just been at my seat hoping to sit down and ignore the pain in the ass that was Bender.

He continues to torment the figure in the back forcing her to continue to glare. There was with out a doubt something wrong with that piece of shit Bender.

"I said leave her alone!" I say firmly this time close to him forcing him to break his stare and look up at me.

"You gunna make me?" Bender challenges straightening up to his full six foot one height and glowering down at me.

I wasn't nearly as tall as Bender was but I was a star athlete and a wrestler. But then again I had seen him fight. Even when he was ganged up on, jumped—four against one, he came out swinging. Bloody broken and battered but the victor and looking like a wild animal. Hell he fought like one, there was desperation in his eyes, in the way he wouldn't stay down, the fiery fury that burned in his eyes brighter each time he got hit and landed one of his own. Yes while I was confident in my wrestling abilities I was nowhere near ready to fight the beast like thing named Bender.

"Yeah," I answered as confidently and as calm as I could, no need letting him on that I was already scared shitless.

His strides were more like gallops of an angered bronco as he came at me a cold and calculating stare aimed right at me, "You and how many of your friends?"

Already he was so used to being jumped, being outnumbered, cheated and handed a handicap he no longer knew the meaning of fair, I could see it in his eyes. So shaking my head I answer smoothly, "No just me, just you and me. Two hits, me hitting you, you hitting the floor, anytime you're ready pal!"

He scoffs at me already turning to leave before playfully and mockingly slapping my face. Though I would love to say I fought clean and respectfully I can't say that I did. After all pinning me against Bender was like putting an ant against a semi; the ant though strong didn't have a snow ball's chance in hell. So when I saw his arm, saw an opening, I took it and wrestled him to the ground.

Claire POV

Watching as Andrew held down Bender I could only hold my breath in silent dread filled anticipation. I didn't want to see any blood and from what I have heard and even chanced upon was that when Bender was involved in any fight, there was always blood. The blood nauseated me, turned my stomach, I didn't need that when I didn't have anything in my stomach to swirl and disperse. So I tried but failed to call out for them to stop.

Glancing up to receive some kind of help I simply watch in horror as the school slut, the tramp, simply sitting there eyes glazed over taking in the scene before her. She didn't look remotely bothered; it was almost as if someone was performing a low budget play for her. Her head was cocked to a side letting her golden brown hair spill over her face covering her eyes just so that it made her look almost dangerously. I won't lie I will admit beauty were I find it but I would never tell it to her face that I found her gorgeous, for a tramp that is.

Pale creamy complexion that only stood out further by the beautiful shine of light golden brown wavy hair. Crimson colored lips large doe shaped eyes the same hue as her hair, yes she was beautiful, but for a tramp. Lost in my thoughts I fail to catch what happens between the fighting boys until the sound of something being impaled is heard. Glancing up I watch in amplified horror as Bender stabs his knife into the chair. There's a thick silence of hostility that befalls us and though I can hear the chatter between Andrew and Bender I don't make any sense of it. For all I can see and hear is the hands that reach out for the knife and pull it out.

The odd one, the one who laughed at me—bitch, pulled the knife out and clicked it shut fully intending on shoving it into her purse until a small clearing of one's throats stops her. Turning, I follow her gaze, I watch as the light golden haired Dior—I knew her name it was hard not to after she did _that_ with Tracy's boyfriend—waves her hand. The odd girl in hues of black and grey, nameless and virtually silent, if not for the squeaks she gave out, frowned before pouting. Another clearing of Dior's throat causes her to heave a sigh and toss the knife into the air. Dior catches the knife easily shoving the metal weapon into her leather jackets pocket.

Great so the tramp was a thief too, go figure.


	4. Chapter 4

I appreciate the gesture, really I do, but it wasn't John's fault. Well at least not all of it. You see it wasn't what he was saying more how he was saying. It was as if he was saying 'I know something's off, tell me, tell me, tell me!'

But I couldn't just tell him. Hell I couldn't even admit to myself what happened those few months ago. But now there they were staring into me, seeing me for all I was worth, those damn dark eyes that I've come to hate and love, wait…what!

We'll come back to that later and figure that one out, I hope. What matters now is that I can't let John have his knife. I knew John's rage, witnessed it, even half endured it when he didn't snap out of it in time to realize who was holding him back, for fear that he'd kill the guy who had enough balls to swing at him with a bat. When John fought two emotions only rang through him, Rage being the strongest and most lethal but even that needed a helping hand named Desperation. Years of whatever kind of abuse he endured unleashed itself in a horrible whirlwind of blood and mayhem. It was something that made me scared, weary of all men—as if I wasn't already—but I needed only to glance into those dark almost black eyes and I was rendered helpless.

Words could not and would not describe the anger in me if John did in fact kill Andrew over something trivial like this! God I'd be hell-a pissed! I'd be so pissed that I'd go everyday to prison wring his neck and wait till he got out to finish kicking the shit out of him. So when I saw Ally take it I demanded it, not because John would have taken it from her. Not because I didn't trust her. Strangely enough even though the first time we've ever spoken was mere minutes ago I felt like I could trust her entirely with my everything, I wouldn't though, big difference between could and will. With a cough of my throat I caught her attention and asked for the switch blade because I knew John would've taken it from her if need be with force. Tossing me a pout and a bit of a squeak which I couldn't help but smile at she tosses the knife over to me reluctantly. Catching it effortlessly I jam it into my jacket pocket ignoring the stare Claire, princess Barbie, sends my way and go back to looking blank and bored.

"—you understand me?" Andrew demands angrily and firmly trying not to waver before John, such a hard thing to do.

Feeling the worlds heaviest gaze upon me I glance slowly and only fractionally up to where he stands taking in the sincerity of his words mirrored in his eyes as he says, "I'm trying to help her…"

I open my mouth to say something but the sound of the library door rustling forces all our attention ahead of us. We expect to see Vernon walking in here like he owned he god damn place, like he walked on gold, like he was king minus himself, but we didn't. In walked Carl, what had to be the best god damn men in the entire world. Slowly and leisurely he strolls in pushing his cart as he went only to stop at the unexpected increase of numbers in the Saturday detention. My distress instantly melts away as he smiles that familiar warm grin over at me.

"Dior! Comment êtes-vous mon bon ami?" (How are you my good friend?) he says enthusiastically over to me and then nods to Brian saying in english, "Hey Brian."

"Aussi bien que je serai jamais, dis-moi Carl tu es venu pour moi grâce?" (As well as I'll ever be, tell me Carl you have come through for me?) I ask shooting up from my seat and heading over to him quickly.

Shaking his head with that grin he reaches into his bin of trash and says softly, "Si Vernon demande vous n'avez pas cela de moi!" (If Vernon asks you didn't get this from me!)

Rolling my eyes I say in English for the lines are blurred to me, "Carl there are many things Vernon will never know about what you do, like steal from the cafeteria, or the money from the soda machines."

"Whoa kid!" Carl says pulling out a guitar case before telling me, "No need announcing it to the world!"

"Comme ils avaient á croire que quelqu'un comme moi!" (Like they'd believe someone like me!) I say in exasperation, hiding ones hurt behind sarcasm has always worked right?

Taking my guitar case in one hand I nod my head in thanks and off he goes to do his job while I figure a way to stash my guitar. It had been confiscated a few days ago because of some stupid reason or the other. Okay so it wasn't such a stupid reason, I wielded it like a sledge hammer and bashed some girls face in, big whoop. Okay so she went to the hospital with a broken nose, two fractured ribs and concussion, sue me! Wait don't do that, scratch that, forget I said anything.

"Uh Doir…" I hear Brians timid voice call out to me while I stuff my guitar under the librarians desk.

Shouting while I was ducked under a 'Yeah' I can only hope he hears me. How is it that he knows my name?

"How is it that you're _just_ passing French but you can speak it so fluently?" he asks genuinely confused, I can tell from his innocent tone.

Oh that's right that's why he looked so familiar, I had French with Mr. Brian Johnson! Huh wonder why I didn't connect the dots earlier.

Popping up only barely seeing above the counter, curse you horrible height crippling genes, "Well my mom is French born came here a few years before she met my dad and had me. I grew up learning French as my first language seeing as to how I had very little contact with other English speaking kids."

Whoa, whats with the sudden release of information there Dior? Stiffening slightly at my sudden sharing I try to ignore the knot in my stomach.

"Then how are you just barely passing?" Claire's face mimics those around her, confusion.

Pausing before I round the counter I stop and look around as if for an answer, "Uh…I don't know."

This earns a small snigger from Ally and a smirk from John, not that I noticed, not that I was looking at him, not that I wanted to pull the shroud of darkness that now veils his eyes…not that I care that he's sorry he's hurt my feelings. No, not that I care…

"Uh Carl," John starts and from his joking tone I know its nothing good, "Can I ask you a question?"

Shrugging his shoulders Carl nods and says, "Sure."

Oh Carl you've dug your own grave.

"How does one become a janitor," John asks because he's an ass whether he's sorry about it or not.

A brow rises on Carl's face as he asks stiffly, "You wanna be a janitor?"

"No, I just want to know how one becomes a janitor you see, Andrew here, is very interested in pursuing a career in the custodial arts," John says pointing to a now red faced Andrew.

"Oh really? You guys just think I'm some untouchable peasant, a servant, a Peon, huh? Maybe so, following a broom around shit heads like you for the past eight years I've learned a couple of things. I look through your letters," to this no one flinched but Claire, "I look through your lockers," John and I both stiffened at that one, "I listen to your conversations, you don't know that but I do. I am the eyes and ears of this institution my friends." he moves to leave but stills after glancing up at the clock then back down at his own watch, "By the way, that clocks twenty minutes fast!"

He leaves us a flurry of emotions, one being that of blown away. I'd always known Carl was a bit of a bad ass but wow, to stand toe to toe with John? Even I had trouble doing something like that.

Whether it was the fact that Carl had come in or simply because moving along wordlessly was what we did best I don't know, all I knew was that he was back in his old seat and letting me play with his scarf that he had tied around his head. For a moment we are silent, still and bored, nothing new. Until finally John begins to whistle letting me join the familiar tune slowly everyone else joins in too, discreet or not. But soon enough that dies in our throats as Vernon walks in and causes it to morph into Beethoven's symphony 5. I smirk at the sound of it but do nothing else as Vernon says:

"Alright girls, that's thirty minutes for lunch."

Looking around Andrew asks indecorously, "Here?" but fixing his tone he says politely, "well I think the cafeteria would be a much suitable place to eat lunch, sir."

"Well I don't care what you think, Andrew," Vernon says spitefully before John interrupts.

"Uh Dick?" holding up his hand and then placing it back down he rephrases, "Excuse me Rich," as if that were more polite, well seeing as to how it was John I guess it was an upgrade, "Will milk be made available?"

"We're extremely thirsty sir," Andrew coins in.

Following suit Claire says, "I have a really low tolerance to dehydration."

Nodding Andrew says quickly, "I've seen her dehydrate sir, it's pretty gross."

As if on cue John begins, "Relax I'll—"

But before he can finish, still midway before standing and sitting, my hand on his shoulder I grin down at him, "Don't worry I got this one!"

But neither one of us make it very far before Vernon calls out to us, "Ah, grab some wood there bud, both of you," he tells us eyeing us both before adding, "You think I was born yesterday, you think I'm going to have you, either of you, roaming these halls?"

Nodding in understanding John sits to which I simply shrug and plop back down ungracefully. I wonder is there a place where a girl like me can learn some etiquette, I wonder does it charge? I wonder would they let me in at all? My wondering ends at Vernon's inane shouting trying to catch someone's attention.

"What's her name? wake up, come on, on our feet missy!" he calls out snapping at her like that would wake Ally from what looked like a dream like trance. She looked calm and peaceful and though it pained me to do it I would wake her.

So after yelling, "I got it!" I bound up from my chair and jump upon her table slamming down with a loud smack. It hurt but it got Ally to wake up. She looks startled for a whole few seconds before smiling gently at me.

"Hey Ally-May, _de porc _(the pig) is calling you," I say happily grinning at her, whether she understood French or not I don't know.

"Ma'am that was uncalled for," he tells me as I slip off the table and head back to my own seat.

Shrugging my shoulders, "A lot of things I do aren't called for Richie."

"Would you like another Saturday detention?" he asks threateningly as Ally slips out following a blue eyed blonde who she'd been making eyes at the entire time we've been here, not that I'll say anything, no need to start pointing fingers. My eyes won't unglue themselves from a certain long haired boy.

Rolling my eyes I give him a sideways look that says 'please-not-that-again' before a bored sigh slips past my lips and he retreats.

"Hey Dior?" Johns voice calls out, his deep sultry voice ringing my name out like something damn near sinfully divine.

"Hmm," I'm suffering from that heady feeling I always get when he calls me by my name and not by some asinine nickname, but why I like my name from his lips I don't know, I at least I hope I don't…

"You want to see a guy with elephantiasis of the nuts?" he asks breaking me free from my heady feeling and bringing back to reality, glancing over my shoulder I find him smirking, "It's pretty tasty."

Rolling my eyes I tell him with a smirk of my own, feeling only slightly foolish for my overly girlish feelings from before, "Call me when it's a guy who has it on his dick then we'll see babe."

The heavy blush on Claires face and the sputtering coming from Brian does not escape me. I watch as surprise filters through his eyes before amusement until he fires back with, "Would you ever consider going out with someone like this? I mean if he had a great personality, was a great dancer and had a cool car although you probably have to ride in the back seat because his nuts would ride shot gun."

"Why can't you leave her alone Bender?" Claire asks for some reason, unbeknownst to me, she sticks up for me. Even though it's not necessary because what's going on now is simply us being…us.

Ignoring her completely John asks softly a real question in his eyes, "Well, would you? Or would you be vain and leave him simply because he's…_different_?"

The intensity in his eyes makes me want to both look away to hide my heating face while at the same time made me bold with courage I didn't know I had. Jutting out my chin in defiance I straighten up from where I'm sitting and eye him. I don't know what he's asking from me, I've never been one to pick up on subtle clues, hell I'm all but in invalid when it comes to workings of the opposite, contrary to popular beliefs.

"Well…" I start off my voice soft and low as I conveyed my true feelings, Brian and Claire my audience, forgotten but watchful, "I think if this guy was really such a great guy I'd accept him. But it works both ways, if I were to accept him then I expect him to look past all my faults, every last bit of my kinks, my own deformities and accept them whole heartedly. But I think I could and would accept him, different's always been okay in my book…"

The smirk on his face drops as does the mirth and for a moment I can only hope I haven't answered incorrectly, was there a way to get this wrong? Was this a trick question?

"From what I hear human is okay with you," Claire retorts under her breath flicking her hair back over her shoulder with attitude.

My head snaps over to her as a glare hardens my gaze but an aloof smirk stays on my lips, "Well yeah, human to, what can I say I love to _play_!"

"Ugh," she makes a face at me before asking, "You're disgusting, how can you be so…sleazy?"

Shrugging and hiding my hurt I merely reply, "What do you care, my sex life isn't in anyway hindering yours is it?"

Rolling her eyes she looks away leaning her right shoulder upon the statue in the middle of the library, "You know what I wish I were doing right now?"

"Oh, watch what you say, Brian here, is a cherry," John says falling back into his 'jerk-off' persona, such a funny persona it can be at times.

Upon hearing this Brian speaks up defending his sex life, or the lack of one, "A cherry? I am not a cherry!"

"I wish I was on a plane, to France…" Claire continues unaware, or uncaring, that no one was listening to her.

This is the second mention of France. France always led to mom and mom always led to something dark in my mind. Light gold brown hair much like my own, eyes just like my own but void of any kind of life, she's tall something I didn't seem to get despite both my parents being tall. She's beautiful her fair skin shining in the sun when she did manage to go outside. But beneath her beauty there was a monster, a beast that lashed out at random occasions. But its not like its her fault, no she's sick…so sick…

"Ah so you and Claire did it?" John's loud voice cuts in through my dark pit of depression almost as if on purpose. Glancing up I catch him staring at Brian a swirl of mixed emotions in his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Claire asks slightly defensive upon hearing the same thing as I did.

"Uh…" Brian starts flustered suddenly, "Nothing, lets just drop it okay, we'll talk about it later!"

"Yeah, what are you guys talking about?" I ask my eyes narrowing in on John who never gives way under my glares, its always worth trying, why can he always make me break but never the other way around?

"Well what Brian was trying to tell me was that upon the number of girls in the Niagara Fall's area, that presently he and you are riding the hobby horse." John informs Claire.

Offended I expected, hell being offended was all Claire was good for really, everything offended her, nothing was good enough, but hurt…never, "You pig!"

"No, John said I was a cherry and I said I wasn't, that's it!" Brian suddenly looks twice as mortified and though I know John has twisted his words, I won't help him out, I feel like watching someone drown.

"Well then what were you motion to Claire for?" asks John passively and almost innocently as if he truly didn't understand, god how I loved the drama John started, actually I think I just about loved everything John…

Lets not finish that sentence for my sanity's sake, okay?

"I don't appreciate this very much Brian," Claire continues looking as if someone had just grabbed her heart and stepped all over it, such a horrible hurt look that no one should don, really.

"He's lying," Brian tries to amend.

Saying ever so softly, because he knew one wrong move could make or break these kinds of situations, John asks, "So you weren't motion to Claire?" when Brian goes again to accuse John of lying—John may do a lot of things but I've noticed he hated, absolutely loathed, lying—he asks again, "Were you or were you not motioning to Claire?"

There's a moment's hesitation before Brian looks up and sees Claire's expression, I believe it's what broke him, "Well, yeah, but only because I didn't want her to know I was a virgin, kay?" at the look John gives him he says hotly, "Excuse me for being a virgin, I'm sorry."

"You're pathetic," I say suddenly unable to hold back the venom in my words.

Anger twists Brians usually passive features, "Well I'm sorry not all of us can sleep with the whole damn school Dior!"

Springing up from the chair I sit in with a wrath that would rival gods I glare him down. His anger seems to quell under my gaze but I don't let up as I slowly make my way over to him, "Whats so damn embarrassing about it?"

"What?" he looks genuinely confused.

"I'm asking what's so damn embarrassing about being a virgin?" I say to clarify any confusion.

He struggles with his words suddenly his throat seemingly dry, "Uh…um…"

"You don't even have an answer…" my voice is hard with anger as I stood there almost as if reprimanding a child, "You men are eager to lose it, ready to bang anything that so much as moves, you don't care with who, where or even why, simply that you lose it. Tell me Brian when the men leave the room feeling triumphant what do you think the girl they just _fucked_, for what the men did wasn't anything near love making, feels like?"

"U-uh…" his voice cracks and I can see the pleading look in his eyes that ask me to stop this because he is scared of something he see's in me, "I don't…don't know…"

"No you wouldn't know, would you? I'm not asking you to become celibate or any kind of bullshit like that, because I know a man needs a bit of release every now and again," wow I've been hanging out with the guys at work a bit too much, "I'm just asking that the next time you feel ashamed of your god damn purity you remember all the girls that get left behind like pieces of trash, you hear me?"

"Yes ma'am…" he stumbles out before I march away my body shaking with anger.

What I've done is stupid, doing something like that in front of eyes that see too much won't do me any good, I know at least this much. As if the small episode from before hadn't showing him something I'd been hiding in me this was just icing to the god damn cake! So I did what I normally did I walked away went to my seat and simply shut down. Shutting down was usually what I did no matter the situation. It was easy and better for me simply to ignore what I felt, call it running away but its what's kept me relatively functional these past few years. It also wasn't smart because the entire time I was yelling at Brian I managed to bring to the surface unwanted emotions I thought I'd buried deep into the abyss that was my soul.

But no sure enough there I was feeling like I was right back on that floor, grimy hands, bloody thighs, tear streamed face, laughter in the air, booze on their lips, unheared cries muffled by the cloth violently tied around the back of my head.

My body shakes at the memory of it all as I sit there my eyes fixed upon the front door. My hands itch, wanting to hold the only thing that's kept me sane my entire life, but I dare not move. I can feel his eyes; feel the way they weigh down on me, burn holes through me, and try desperately to peel back on what was already crumbling layers of myself. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to me. So as I sat I changed into an almost lazy pose and heaved a sigh as I placed my chin in my hand, elbow upon the table, and waited for everything to bury itself within me. Just like everything in my life I'd shove it into a closet that was my mind never to open it again and simply hope I forget all about it.

Ah but while I longed for silence and peace John was firmly against it. On he came and seated himself upon his own seat. Only this time he sat backwards staring intently at me his eyes running over my poker face until finally falling to my hand. My gaze follows his as I watch my ringed hand tremble. Pulling it off the table I straighten up and tilt my head back to stare up at the ceiling up above. No words cross us and I'd like for it to remain that way just a little longer. So numbly I reach for my bag blindly and reach in to grab a hold of a bright purple bandana wrapped itself around a pack of cigs. Unfolding it lazily I grab a white stick and place it upon my lips. Glancing over at John I watch as he simply takes me in. Though I wish to shout at him to look away, look anywhere but me, I remain quiet.

Grabbing a hold of my Zippo I flick the top open and run the flint upon my pants effectively striking it to light. It was a trick I had seen countless times done by the only other owner of this silver lighter. A flame appeared and quickly I light my cigarette allowing the poisonous cancerous smoke fill my lungs. A soft click is heard as I recap my Zippo and shove it back into my jean pocket. Peering through my hair that offers a mock shield from dark penetrating eyes I watch as he longingly licks his pink perfectly plump lips. The sight is one that stills me, makes me blush, and causes the oddest feeling to rumble in my stomach.

Pushing all those feelings away I take a long drag from the stick before grabbing it and holding it for him letting the smoke escape my lips as I talk, "Want some?"

He shoots me an idle smirk before slowly reaching for the cig between my fingers. Through the contact is brief and almost nonexistent it sends waves of electricity through my body. The tips of his fingers brush against my own lightly making my eyes go wide before I quickly look away finding the rings upon my fingers extremely interesting. I allow him to hold onto the cig until finally he sends it my way on his own. Glancing up I grab a hold of it but make sure our fingers did not brush. Slowly I place the stick between my lips and ignore the nagging in my stomach. The nagging that said this was on his lips, this he held, this is now on your lips!

Just as I stub the now dead bud under the bottom of my boot Ally walks in a sullen looking Andrew in tow. Flicking the bud in any random direction I shoot John a half hearted smirk to which he takes and simply flicks me upon my forehead before turning around in his seat.

"What's in there?" John asks Claire who's taking out a wooden box of sorts.

Shrugging her shoulders causing her pink flowy shirt, she had long since pulled off her brown leather jacket, to move slowly, "Guess, where's your lunch?"

This time it was John's turn to shrug as he smiled back at me a wolfish grin saying easily, "Dior's wearing it."

"You're nauseating," Claire declares as I try to hide the blush wishing to spill across my cheeks.

The sound of something being flung and caught echoes as John tosses a coke to Ally. Without so much as glancing up from the insane pieces of artwork she catches it.

"What is that?" John voices my question as I stare with a mixture of horror and disgust on my face at her food.

"Sushi," she replies with a hint of a smile.

Making a face John over pronounces, "_Sue-she_?"

"Sushi," Claire says correctly going to explain, "It's raw fish, rice, and sea weed."

At this everyone, Andrew, Brian, Ally, John and myself make a face of mild disgust.

"You won't accept a guys tongue in your mouth and you're going to eat that?" John asks with confusion in his tone.

Making a face Claire simply asks, "Can I eat?"

Shaking his head and holding up his hand John says with caution, "I don't know, give it a try."

Then suddenly a bit of a ruckus catches all our attentions. The crinkling of a large bag of chips echoes as Andrew pulls a big bag of lays from the brown bag. Three meat filled, overly stuffed sandwiches are placed upon the table soon followed by a bag of chicken. A quart of milk is then taken out and when we think it's all over out comes a banana and an apple.

Slowly he unravels one sandwich curiously turning to stare at all who look upon him asking, "What's you guys problem?"

"Andrew, dude," My voice comes out in an awe causing them all to turn, "anything else, I swear you bring out just one more item and you'll be able to feed all of Africa!"

To this Andrew simply blushes lightly and laughs before turning away only to have to turn back when we all begin to hear it. First the sizzle of coke spilling over catches my attention. Turning over I catch her as she slurps the drink off the table. Eventually all turn to eye her as she tosses up her ham onto the statue only to have it fall off lifelessly. Bringing out an unhealthy amount of pixie sticks she pours them all on her bread before placing some in her soda. Sprinkling cap'n'crunch upon the sugar riddled bread she squishes it down packing it down. And then slowly as to not spill anything she grabs her sandwich noticing only when she takes a huge chunk out of it that we were all staring at her.

As everyone turns away John simply shifts his gaze over to me and eyes me for a moment, "Where's your lunch?"

Smirking I give him my best sultry smile and say, "_You're_ wearing it…"

* * *

><p>If you were wondering what Dior looked like google Domino Harvey (Keira Knightly's version) and there's Dior.<p>

(please exclude the guns and all the mayhem that Domino carries with her, well actually simply exclude the guns, Dior doesn't do guns. I think because their loud, but who knows I'll ask her the next time I come across her.)

-Dreaming Ani


	5. Chapter 5

He hands me the coke, simple and innocent enough act, just a passing of a soda can. But our fingers brushed ever so lightly. I hate that such minimal contact from those surprisingly soft fingers had my heart racing, my stomach fluttering with butterflies and every other lame cliché girls got. He didn't seem to notice the way I ripped my hand away from the coke succeeding in almost dropping it. He didn't notice the way I ducked my face to hide the heat currently burning my face. He didn't seem to notice the way my breath hitched and the way my body now coursed with high voltage electricity. Even if he had noticed would it have mattered? Would I have wanted him to notice such weakness? There was an uncomfortable gnawing in my chest that told me perhaps, maybe just maybe, I did.

Those unreadable, phantom less, eyes were trained on me for a brief moment as I awkwardly pulled out my lunch. It wasn't so much lunch than it was a good raiding of a convince store before I got here. A bag of some Doritos and some sour patch kids, such a nutritious lunch wouldn't you agree. I off handedly offered him some to which he accepted by grabbing a handful of the sour patch kids and shoving them into his mouth. With that he walked off to terrorize the only little thing in the room that allowed such a thing to happen, well, openly.

The sound of his voice, so cruel and empty broke me from my thoughts. Glancing up I caught sight of his long, toned and broad body rise to its full intimidating height. Under the shine of the florescent lights his muss brown mane of hair darkened his sun kissed complexion lightened but caused a shadow over his features. By now he had shed both of his jackets wearing only his long sleeve red flannel and some white long sleeve under that peeked out only because he pushed his left sleeve up. He took long strides to the front of the library like something wild and feral. The air of authority, of silent submission to his will, always whirled around him but thickened considerably as he turned and spoke.

Light rose colored lips, neither too full nor too thin, were such a tempting sight. A nose of nobility neither too long nor too short. A chin of defiance, of authority, of something made and not born. He was gorgeous, simply stunning, created and not born by the expert hands of angels. Was he always this handsome? When did I pay so much attention to that face, that devilishly handsome face? And why, why, couldn't I, for the life of me, look away? Why was his smiling face, not smirk, not grin, nothing forced and fake seared forever behind my lids that even if I shut my eyes to escape the image it haunted me still?

"Dear, isn't our son swell?" his voice was that of a mocking tone but the glint in his eye was of hate and almost silent envy, "Yes dear isn't life swell?" he mimes the parents kissing happily before the father version punches the mother in the face.

He turns fully intent on going back to his seat where I sat slightly dazed, completely confused as to what he was doing, but never made it. The tension in the air was palpable as he walked only to be stopped by Andrew, "Alright, what about your family?" he demands.

"Oh mine?" he asks almost surprised but keeps his rough and tough asshole persona on while he ducks his head down to Andrew and mutters darkly, "That's real easy."

He roughly shoves a hand through his hair and messes up his appearance up a bit further before pointing at nothing in particular and begins to say, "Stupid, worthless, no good, god damned, freeloading, son of a bitch, retarded, big mouth, know it all, asshole, jerk!"

Shifting he crosses his arms and dons a softer and more feminine voice, well as much as his baritone voice could allow, and begins to say, "You forgot ugly, lazy and disrespectful…"

Slapping his hand in the air as if hitting the woman, no doubt his mother, and the darker deeper sluggish persona appears, "Shut up bitch! Go fix me a turkey pot pie!"

His voice, clear and teasing appears as he points and asks, "What about you, Dad?"

"Fuck you!" the deeper voice, the father, slurs out.

"No, Dad, what about you?" he yells as himself.

"FUCK YOU!" shouts the deeper voice before throwing a fist in the air and does the motion as if he received it.

There was thick tension, so very thick and real I nearly tasted it, as we sat there staring at him. I can't say what the others were thinking at the moment. I can barely tell you their expressions because my wide eyes were locked on his as they slowly, almost begrudgingly slid over to look at me. There was something dark, horrible and broken in his eyes that I couldn't stomach. John was strong, stronger than me—I'm willing to admit to myself that much—how could he look so broken, so tired, so lifeless? That look was meant for me and for me alone, no one else. Everything in me wanted to run up to him and wrap my arms around him and hold him till all the bad left him, the dirty and the horrible. But I froze under that stare, rendered weak and useless because that look was the one I saw forever in the mirror no matter how much liner I applied.

"Is that for real?" the question was hesitant and nearly a whisper form Brian as he stared wide eyed up at John.

Whipping his head around John asks roughly, "You wanna come over sometime?"

"That's bullshit," shouts Andrew a sneer deep in his voice, "It's all part of your image, I don't believe a word of it."

A hurt look he doesn't bother hiding crosses his features as rage boils up deep inside me, "You don't believe me?"

"No," so self righteous was this preppy douche.

"No," it's a simple word but filled such pain and shock it tightens in my chest.

"Did I stutter?" Andrew demands looking angered at this little banter between the two.

A rough yank and John pulls the sleeve of his shirt up to revel a large burn mark that has me wishing to look away but I can't, I'm helpless, I'm pathetic, "Do you believe this? Huh? it's about the size of a cigar…do I stutter?" his wards are rough like a jagged rusty knife but there's so much pain lacing them I don't know how to react, "You see, this is what you get in my house when you spill paint in the garage."

A blonde head looks away, unable to look at the evidence, unable to truly process the extent of the damage he himself inflicted. Slowly John begins to walk away saying as he does so, "See I don't think I need to sit here with you fucking dildos anymore!"

Swiftly he passes past me almost as if refusing to look at me the most among the group. Ignoring the hurt that inflicts in my chest I listen to the angered roars he gives out as he inflicts some rage filled damage wherever he can. There's pain in his cries and while I regret it even before I do it I begin to stand. Slowly I allow my jackets to slip off leaving me in my faded black tee, from one rock band or the other.

Calling over my shoulder loud enough for him to hear I ask, "John," there's a silence and while I can feel the stares of everyone I refuse to care about them as I turn to stare at his trembling form in the back of the room, "You want to know about my family?"

He says nothing, simply stares, those black eyes hard and cold but for the first time in a long time they don't unnerve me. For the first time since I met him in this damn library I'm perfectly fine meeting his stare allowing him to see everything that made up me. Everything dark, dirty, hideous, and sinful that was me. There sat a silent question in those orbs of his, a question I fully intended on answering, even if it went against my very instinct.

Pulling on my deep maroon cloth scarf I allow it to drift to the floor as eerily calm and unshaken hands grab the hem of my shirt. Lifting the shirt over my head I suddenly feel so very naked, bare and disgusting under the glare of the lighting above. Though I wear a simple loose white wife beater under the stare of those now wide black eyes I feel so very filthy, more so than usual. But I refused to back down now. I no longer wished to run and hide. I would bare my soul even if it meant getting spat at. I was so very tired of hiding.

John POV

"Extreme paranoia, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and manic depression," her silken voice sounded slightly automatic as she stood there looking at me.

The jackets shed, lying on the floor forgotten, showed us how small she really was. She was thin and so very petite. She looked younger, so very vulnerable, and susceptible to the dangers of the world. How she survived this long I don't know. Looking at her I found myself feeling unworthy of basking in her beauty, her utter and sheer magnificence. But as the maroon scarf fell to join the jackets I found my eyes refused to leave her, worthy or not I am a greedy fucker, I stared on.

Brilliant, so vibrant the colors jumped off her creamy skin. It was a fish of some sort that was etched so flawlessly upon her neck the wisps of blue and brilliant cherry pink petals falling just under the collar of her shirt. My eyes watched with such focus, such intensity, as she pulled the black faded tee up and off her body. A strangled breath, a jagged gasp, echoed only in my ears and for a moment I'm glad I stormed to the far end of the library so no one could hear it. But one couldn't blame me if they would simply glance at what I was looking at.

They littered her body, jagged scars, and burns marred her creamy flesh. My mind whirled, shock, sadness made it hazy but anger was the one that pumped my blood with such a heat I felt I'd burn the whole place down. One couldn't exactly see them for they were hidden well under the wisps of blue ink and pink petals. But I knew what to look for, because they marred my flesh too, so I saw them easily enough. The ink swirled around both her arms and over the tops of her bountiful breasts before circling around her back and disappearing at her flat and smooth pelvis. As much as I hated to think so it looked utterly beautiful.

Somewhere in the back of my mind the thoughts that Dior was something straight out of some kind of fairy tale, or fantasy come to life, was only proven true. The vibrant coloring danced against the bleak surroundings. Her golden brown hair shined brighter while those sad doe shaped eyes seemed to glitter all that much more. Everything in me wanted to run up to her, take her in my arms and never let go. I wanted to protect her from whatever injured her, burned her, and broke her so. But I stayed in place as she spoke, for it wasn't my place to protect something as precious as her.

"She's sick, my mom, always was. But when my Dad left for war it got worse," she tells me her black nailed finger tips ghosting over the smoothed over scars under the ink, "When dad didn't come home she stopped taking her meds and the…hallucinations got so very bad."

My jaw tightened as I listened on unable and helpless from the pain that occurred every time those hypnotic eyes flashed my way, "I know what she does isn't really her fault, she's sick, but I'm scared. I'm scared of the only family I have left. There are times that I hate her, after she's tried killing me for whatever reason, times when I want to leave her to fend for herself, but I stay. I stay because I aint got anyone else. I'm stupid for staying, I know that much, I'm stupid for loving her despite the times I've woken up to the feel of kerosene on my skin and fire burning up whatever clean flesh I have left."

One could hear a pin drop in the library for I have no doubt those assholes are holding their breath as I am.

Something snaps, something shadowy befalls her features and warps her beautiful eyes. Her body trembles as the words leave her mouth almost unwillingly, "My Dior is a good girl, my Dior is no slut, my Dior, I'll save you, mommy will save you. Mommy will burn away what those boys did, mommy will make you clean, mommy will make you clean…"

The silence rings in my ears and for the first time in my entire life, I fear breaking it.

She turns breaking the stare that renders me helpless and focuses it on Andrew and says with such a cold menacing tone it chills me, "You don't know what happens in Johns life, you don't have to live through what he lives through, your life, your fucking perfect life only holds a fraction of what his does. Next time you decide to open your mouth know, fucking omit it to memory, that I'll be there to bust your fucking mouth. You'll be eating through a goddamn straw."

With that she walks over to the librarians counter and though her height shouldn't allow her to do this she leaps up onto it and jumps down to the floor. Hidden from sight the faint sounds of guitar strings lightly being plucked echo in the far distance. Briefly I hear the princess open her mouth:

"You shouldn't have said that."

Mumbling in a low enough voice so that I don't hear, but I still do, the library's completely quiet at the moment, he says, "How would I know, I mean, he lies about everything anyway."

A grin, malicious and cold spreads on my face as I climb up to the second floor balcony. Allowing my legs to dangle I hug the railing and allow my mind to wander to darker things. But all my mind thought about, as it always did, was a certain golden haired beauty and her golden eyes. I am not brave or dumb enough to willingly admit this aloud but the longer this hellish day dragged out the more I fell for the girl. God, I'm such an idiot to fall for someone just as battered and broken as I am.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you all like!<em>

_~Dreaming Ani_


	6. Chapter 6

Brian POV

I see it, we all do, it's hard not to, but for our health's sake we say nothing. His hand, considerably larger than her tiny nearly dainty one, consumes hers as he holds it. He hadn't said a word since he jumped off the balcony and wandered about the library in an almost dazed manner. But it didn't take long before a determined look settled and hardened in his dark eyes. Jumping over the counter, as Dior had done, he lands with a heavy thud and all but dragged her out from her hiding spot. Wordlessly she followed either too tired to fight or willing to go wherever he was taking her. We sat back and watched curiosity blooming in us all. None of us would have said anything but just as he pushed open the library door and peeked out he called over his shoulder to everyone and no one in particular: "You coming?"

We followed because we were bored, we followed because there was nothing else to do, we followed because whether we wished to admit it or not he was our silent leader and she our shadow ruler. Claire shot up and of course because she did, so did I. Andrew rose to his feet acting as if he was bothered by going but then again no one was twisting his arm to do so. I'm assuming simply because the silent shadow in the back followed so did he.

This was how we ended up in the hall way watching as the two worst of the bunch happily pushed each other into the lockers and did other stupid things. Dior's laughter echoed in the halls like bells, beautiful clear bells, while she jumped onto Bender's back and snaked her arm around his neck. He cursed as he whirled around attempting, but failing, to remove the girl clinging to him. Finally Claire asks what hangs in all of our minds.

"How do you know where Vernon went?"

Turning to glance over his shoulder and in turn Dior's creamy tattoo stained one—for she still only wore a white wife beater—he mutters easily before turning away, "I don't…"

"Well then, how do you know when he'll be back?" Claire asked confusion marring her pale features and her usually glittering voice.

"I don't…" Bender repeats.

Before anything else can be said Dior turns to eye us from atop of Bender's back and says with a lopsided grin, "Being bad feels pretty good huh?"

If one asked me it didn't. I was nervous. I was scared and worse I was panicky. My hands were clammy, my heart racing my breath short and choppy. I wanted to rant, tell them all the worse case scenarios but I was too cowardly to say them to Claire so I told them to Andrew who walked behind me, "What's the point in going to Bender's locker?"

Shrugging his broad shoulders Andrew merely grumbles, "Beats me…"

"This is so stupid, why do you think, why are we risking getting caught?" I ask again unable to hold back my panic.

Again he merely grumbles, "I dunno…"

Shaking my head I ask, "So then what are we doing?"

Stopping only briefly mid-step he finally stares at me and tells me, "You ask me one more question and I'm beating the shit out of you."

"Sorry," I amend though I don't mean it; I've been threatened enough by preps like Andrew to know that none actually follow through on kicking my ass. But I'll humor him.

Andrew POV

"Slob," I mutter stuffing my hands into my deep ocean blue jacket as I watch the mess, within what should only be called an abyss, spill out slightly.

Smirking at me Bender merely remarks, "My maids on vacation."

"Really, I think maybe she simply fell in one day and never came out," Dior remarks idly fiddling with something or the other as she sat on her haunches before his locker.

Silently we watch as he grabs hold of a large paper bag and pulls out another to repeat the action three times. By the end of the whole thing he holds what I can only assume is marijuana, I wouldn't know I've never seen any outside of a movie.

"Drugs," Brian the lanky kid mutters breathless at Claire wide eyed and extremely startled. Obviously he took D.A.R.E. as seriously as the teachers assumed we all would.

"Screw that Bender put it back!" I yell at Bender as I watch him walk away with Dior hot on his heels. She lazily threw a kick and slammed the locker shut.

"Drugs…" Brian continues to tell Claire, "the boy had marijuana." With a half shrug Claire awkwardly follows after the two bad apples leaving Brian to tell me, "That was marijuana," as if I didn't know by now.

"Shut up," I grumble following after the group for some odd reason.

Allison POV

He looks at me as if I'd share the sentiment; share his shock, his absolute horror at the prospect of drugs. But I can't and I won't. I don't mind drugs, been around them long enough to not care. I wasn't real into weed I was more into downers, pain killers and things as such. I liked something strong that would erase the sadness in me into nothing but numb blankness. Weed, I've come to learn, only makes those feelings surface and that wasn't something I particularly enjoyed.

"Do you approve of this?" he asks celestial blue eyes wide in question but he doesn't wait for my answer as he turns and leaves.

So here I stand next to the locker watching them trail the other. I don't know why I do it, I'm assuming simply because I can, I grab hold of the lock and swipe it. It's not so much that I'm a kleptomaniac simply that I've done it since I could walk that its mere habit. I figured when I was young that if I took something, from anywhere, I'd get into enough trouble and that would force them to look—really look—at me. They would have no choice but focus on me and nothing else. But it never happened.

The crowd walks down the hall slowly and silently until the moment Bender speaks does it break, "We'll cross through the lab and then we'll double back."

"You better be right, if Vernon cuts us off its your fault, asshole," the blonde beautiful boy says with an edge to his voice.

Grinning Dior turns to eye him and asks, "Don't worry we'll get you back home Goldie locks."

"What'd he say?" questions Brian to Claire, "Where're we going?"

Before Claire can answer everyone skids into a halt staring wide eyed at the horrible thing before us. Vernon. We're so screwed.

Claire POV

Was the school always this big? Was there really such a need for so many damn hallways? Every corner we turned, every hall we went through there he was in his cheap gaudy suit doing something or the other. Why the hell did he need to walk around the whole damn school?

Abruptly skidding to a halt Bender stops and grabs hold of Dior's arm to still her as well, "Wait! Wait, hold it! We have to go through the cafeteria!"

Slightly breathless Andrew shakes his head and says, "No, the activities hall."

"Hey man, you don't know what you're talking about…" Bender says looking down at Andrew.

"No you don't know what you're talking about!" Andrew shouts back.

There's a squeak in the background but I don't need to turn to know it's the silent shadow. Dior's voice is the next to spill out, "Just trust him on this one, he's skipped enough to know…"

"No! Now we're through listening to you, we're going this way!" announces Andrew as he turns and starts sprinting off.

I follow because comparing Bender to Andrew I trusted Andrews judgment far more.

John's POV

We watched them run off into the wrong direction. She stayed at my side the hold of my hand on her hand wasn't enough to keep her in place. In fact it was barely enough to join the hands together. So she stayed willingly by me. Slowly she turns up to look at me, those golden eyes stealing my breath as they always did.

Crimson colored lips so tempting, practically begging to be ravished, parted as her voice rang out, "You know as much as I hate them I'm not about to let them get caught."

This, this petite girl that reached no taller than the mid of my chest, was such an idiot, but an idiot I was falling hard for. If not for her and only her being here I would have let them running into the wrong. It was the silent pleading in those selfless eyes that brought me to my knees. They could get me to bend over backwards and for some odd reason I didn't mind so much.

"Alright beautiful," I call to her loving the way a bright blush settles on her features at my words, "lets go save the kids."

Andrew's way brought us face to face with a gate, big surprise.

"Shit!" he curses kicking the iron gate and leaning his head against it in a defeated manner.

"Great idea Jack off," I sneer at him gripping the bars in my hands and refusing to show the giddy look on my face as I feel her tiny body pressed against mine as I pin her between the gate and myself.

"Fuck you," he shouts shoving my shoulder and knocking me off balance allowing my willing prisoner her freedom.

"Fuck you! Why didn't you just listen to John?" Claire demands surprisingly sticking up for me twice in one day, interesting.

"We're dead!" declares Brian only to receive a good snickering on Dior's behalf.

Whether she noticed it or not, or if she did it knowingly, she tended to gravitate towards me. It wasn't long before she was with her back against the iron gate with a foot propped up against it and looking up at me. I lost myself briefly in those endless pools of gold. The urge to slam my lips to hers was such a primal one I nearly buckled under the sheer force.

Shaking my head I mutter under my breath, "No just me."

"What do you mean?" Brian asks his voice an octave above hysterical.

Turning to face him I dig out my _medicinal herb_ and shove it into his pants saying as I do so, "Get back to the library, keep your unit on this!"

"Hey," she calls out to me and whether or not I had a choice I turned to eye her. She wore a lopsided grin, one that didn't reek of falseness, something that was simply her, something beautiful, "Want some company?"

I was floored to say the least. Here I was sticking my neck out for her and she wanted to join me. But I could see it in those eyes of hers she didn't want me to get all of the blame. As much as I appreciated someone caring for me, hell acknowledging me was enough, I couldn't let her get in anymore trouble especially not on my behalf. I wanted to help her, protect her not further drag her down. So while I somewhat suppressed the urge to ravish her right then and there I did allow my lips to land upon her forehead. I could hear the gasp that she gave and while I half expected her to tense and shove me away to my great happiness she melted into my touch and leaned herself up against me.

"Nah," I mutter against her forehead forcing myself to pull away and grin down at her with a raise of my brow, "Wouldn't want to mar that perfect record of yours Beautiful."

She blushes a heavy shade of deep crimson but manages to smile shyly. It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. She nibbles on her bottom lip before she mumbles, "Alright but come back to me Babe."

I won't ever tell anyone just how much my heart flutters at the way she calls me babe. I won't tell anyone how damn happy I felt as I raced off singing 'I wanna be an airborne ranger…' I won't tell anyone, for these feelings are too precious for me to bare them completely to anyone but her, that I've lost, I've fallen for her hard. So very, very hard it's damn near sad.


	7. Chapter 7

Without their fearless leader they're lost. They look at each other expecting the other to know what to do but none move. Frozen by the kiss on my forehead still tingling me I hazily turn to my right and settle into a steady jog. In the distance I can make out the footsteps of the others but I can't bring myself to care if they do or don't follow. My mind was still lost in the heat of John, the feel of his velvet smooth lips upon my skin. That small kiss, not even upon my lips, and already I was a goner. One small hit and I was hooked, utterly lost in the intoxicating drug that was John.

When we made it, how we made it, or how I ended up in my seat I have no idea. All I knew was that something that wasn't mine sat in my hands. It was nice and soft worn down by time with its edges frayed as evidence of it's over usage. It smelled of sandal wood, smoke, and something that was simply John. It was kind of weird and stalker-ish for me to be holding it and smelling it but I couldn't help it in my dazed state. But it was at Claire's words that I came back to earth.

"You like him," she tells me her green eyes oddly void of her snarky bitch attitude.

Sputtering unintelligently I counter, "U-uh, no I don't!"

Snickering Andrew turns in his seat to eye me and says with a grin, "Oh yeah that was totally convincing!"

At that Ally smiles while Brian lightly laughs. Though they laugh and smile nothing is spiteful, or so I feel. Eventually the doors were thrown open and in walks a grinning John and a scowling Vernon. With a rough push Vernon demands from him, "Get your stuff!" suppressing the growl bubbling in my chest I listen as Vernon speaks aloud to everyone, "Mr. Wise-guy here has taken it upon himself to go to the gymnasium. I'm sorry to inform you, you're going to be without his services for the rest of the day."

Grabbing his things John simply says in a condescending tone, "B. O. O. H. O. O."

"Everything's a big joke, huh, Bender? The false alarm you pulled, Friday, false alarms are really funny," well they are, it got me out of a real jam, the jam being school, I left the moment it started ringing, "aren't they…what if your home, your family…" at the look he receives he quickly amends, "What if your dope was on fire."

"Impossible sir, it's in Johnson's underwear," John counters with a devilish smirk on his face.

"Gross," I mutter feigning disgust as Andrew laughed.

"You think he's funny?" demands Vernon glaring at us all, "You think this is cute," no I thought he was gorgeous…but that's beside the point, "You think he's bitchin', is that it?" Lemme tell you something. Look at him, he's a bum. You wanna see something funny? You go visit John Bender in five years! You'll see how god damn funny he is!"

The tension in the air is blatant and so very awkward. Vernon turns to get into Johns face saying with venom, "Whats the matter, John? You gonna cry? Let's go…"

"Hey keep your fucking hands off me!" John yells when Vernon makes a grab for him, roughly he shakes him off and says in a rough tone, "I expect better manners from you, _Dick_."

As he leaves with his jackets hung over his arm and his biker boots slamming heavily on the floor he pulls out his glasses and places them before Andrew saying as he does so, "For better hallway vision."

The stuff crashing on the floor echoes in my ears before the quiet slam of the front door. no one spoke after he left, no one moved, and I wasn't complaining. I was fuming; I was shaking from unshed anger. Out of habit—instinct, really—a white stick dangles from my lips and the sound of my Zippo slamming shut echoes in the room. It isn't long before nicotine floods my lungs and calms my bundling nerves. My fingers rake through my hair as smoke slips past my lips whirling like smoke dragons before my eyes.

"Those can kill you," Claire says drawing my attention to her taking in the slightly disgusted glint in her eyes.

Snorting I place the stick back to my lips and mumble around it, "No shit?"

"You know," Brian interjects looking back at me, "those things are really bad for your health."

Roughly I pull the stick from my mouth and say as the smoke leaves my lungs, "Kid a lot of things I do aren't good for my health."

"No shit?" this time it was Claire's turn to mimic me earning her a fiery glare.

Whether it was the already there anger or the new found one at the judgment deep in her eyes I don't know all I did know was that I was on my feet faster than I could blink and imprisoning her with my arms. My left hand clutched the back of her chair as I placed my face low and close to hers, leveling my eyes with her emerald ones.

"You got something to tell me _Princess_," I all but bite at her my eyes narrowing at the look she gives me.

Pursing those pink perfectly glossed lips of hers she tells me, "I'd tell you but I'm assuming it's nothing you haven't already heard before whore."

"That so?" I ask my voice low and menacing as I disregard the way Andrew tries to calm me. He of all people should be the last person trying to calm me. In fact his voice only made my anger that more wilder.

"Yeah, the whole school knows what you are," Claire continues to spew at me.

Raising a brow at her I suppress the urge of slamming my knee straight into that—more than likely surgically enhanced—nose of hers, "Please indulge me, what might that be?"

Her laugh is high and cold, empty and harsh, it cuts through the air as she pushes her red curls back and grins darkly at me, "We all know what you did with all those guys in the boys workout room."

Cold, Antarctic freezing temperatures kind of bitter, washed over me like a tsunami wave. I wanted to recoil, internally I did, but I refused to show weakness to this bitch. But I couldn't handle it. How could she sit there and be so damn self righteous, so holier than thou, when she didn't even know the truth? I wanted to beat her, make her hurt as much as she made me hurt with those stares, those words, and that god damn judgment! Wasn't it enough that those bastards, those pieces of garbage not worthy of the air they breathed, laughed at me every day in school? Wasn't it enough that everyone thought I was the sick one? Wasn't it enough that I was punished for it, nearly burnt to a crisp by my mother after I confessed to her expecting her to comfort me as any mother would. Wasn't it enough that the men in blue didn't believe me and told me that if I hadn't provoked them, as if I had done anything of the sort, it wouldn't have happened? Wasn't it enough that I couldn't stare at myself in the mirror without hating what I saw every god damn day?

And then suddenly everything hit me. Everything I had thrown into that closet to never be touched, never be thought of came rushing at me. I couldn't dare bring that mask on me anymore for it wouldn't protect me even if it tried. I felt so drained so very tired of pretending that I was so very strong when in fact I was quite weak. So I crumbled, tears spilled over, my voice shook, my body trembled with sobs just waiting to burst out.

But I held face, well at least I refrained from full out hysterically crying then and there, as I said with tears running down my face, "Fuck you, you don't know shit."

If the tension was thick before it instantly timed itself by infinity. I could reach out my shaking fingers into any random part of the air and chip off a good piece of it. I wouldn't, I much preferred the tension filled silence in place, but I could if I ever wanted to. Putting out the cigarette on top of the table I flick the bud at the picture hanging on the wall. The brilliantly smiling faces of the debate team winning some first place trophies felt as if they were smiling in spite of me. They mocked me with their joy filled eyes, their neat blue wool vests, their crisp unwrinkled khakis and their accomplishment in their wholesome lives.

But the tension broke eventually with the sound of something breaking and the loud yelling of 'Oh shit'. Wide eyed we stare at the figure emerge from the crumbling shambles that once made up the ceiling. Smoothly, as if this wasn't totally and completely fucked, he pushes his wonderful mane out of his face and mutters easily when he notices our stares, "I forgot my pencil."

Despite my surly mood I can't help but laugh with the rest of them. Only he would say something so nonchalantly after such a disaster. But our laughter dies as we hear Vernon's strangled yell. Quickly he rushes over to my desk and while I struggle to comprehend what the hell is happening he pushes my seat out easily and begins to crawl under the desk. But he stills and gives me a worried look his brows furrowing together while his hand reaches out and slowly wipes the still fresh tears staining my face. My eyes grow wide as realization hits me.

"Got something in my eye is all," I tell him roughly drying my face.

He doesn't buy it, who would, those black eyes know too much but thankfully he lets it slide and simply mutters before ducking into the cover offered by the desk, "In both of them?"

"God damn it!" Vernon shouts throwing open the door and storms in with a wild look in his eye, "What in god's name is going on here? What was that ruckus?"

"Uh, what ruckus?" Andrew asks quickly.

"I was just in my office and I heard a ruckus!" Vernon states placing his hands on his hips and glares us down.

Raising his hand in the air Brian asks, "Well, could you describe the ruckus, sir?"

"Watch your tongue young man, watch it!" Vernon scolds him to which I can't help but laugh.

"Well sir if you did describe it we might be able to figure out what it was," I tell him my voice soft and submissive feigning innocence.

And then I could feel his soft movements as he tries to adjust his large body under the small cramped space into a comfortable position. The loud bang of his head meeting the top wood of the table echoes into the library air as well as a groan. My eyes grow large but my mind thinks quick as I slam my palm on the table to attempt to cover it up. Andrew catches on and soon enough he begins following my lead by banging his desk.

Opening my mouth to say something asinine or the other only to snap shut to keep the laughter in. Under the table the cruel jerk ran his finger tips over my stomach eliciting squirmish feelings from me for I am nothing if not extremely ticklish. In an attempt to stop him I throw weak kicks and earn good groans from where they manage to hit some soft spots.

"What is that? What, what is that, what was that noise?" Vernon demands.

"What noise?" Andrew asks clearing his throat and gaining Vernon's attention.

"Really sir there wasn't any noise…" Claire begins to say only to get slightly cut off.

Those torturing fingers ran down the top of my thighs to the side of my legs and down to graze over the back of my knees. A strangled laugh leaves my lips as I throw a good kick and quickly begin to laugh to hide my slip up. Everyone follows suit as I abuse the jerk under the desk. Eventually though we end our little coughing fit with my asking:

"That noise, was that the noise you were talking about?"

"No, it wasn't. That was not the noise I was talking about," Vernon says eyeing me carefully before saying to all of us, "Now, I may not have caught you in the act this time, but you can bet I will!"

At this Ally laughs outright making our heads snap around to stare at her. I shot her a grin before looking back at a startled Vernon. He growls lowly before pointing an accusing finger at her and bites out, "You can make book on that missy!" turning to glare at me he shouts, "And you, I will not be made a fool of!"

The sound of laughter fills the air lightening it but I don't see why or care for that matter. Pushing my chair out I allow the jerk to crawl out and as he does so I slap him hard on his back throwing in a good few kicks while I was at it. He laughs apparently unaffected, or uncaring, of my punishment.

"It was an accident," he says in his defense grinning wolfishly at me.

I nearly melt at the sight of it as I throw at him, "You're an asshole."

Dark eyes usually cold glitter happily as he pulls himself to his full height and says staring down at me, "It cheered you up didn't it?"

Color drains my face for a moment before a deep red fills it. I can see his grin grow before he walks off to Brian, to collect no doubt. He stands before him an expectant look on his face. But Brian simply looks confused as to why he's there so John is forced to ask, "So Ahab…can I bum my doobage?"

Turning five shades of red Brian awkwardly reaches into his pants and retrieves the much sought after weed. It takes no less than a minute for the exchange and it isn't long before Johns passing past me asking as he does so, "You coming Beautiful."

As if I had a choice, if the man only knew the kind of hold he had on me, I wasn't about to tell him the extent of it so I settled instead for, "You know it Handsome."

"Yo wasteoids," shouts Andrew over our shoulders calling to us, "you aren't blazing up in here!"

There were a lot of things we weren't supposed to do yet none of it had stopped any of us, well, as of yet.


	8. Chapter 8

Slowly and gracefully she does this to the point where she makes it look like an art and not something illegal and wrong. It's a simple act, a bad one at that, all things considered, but when those thin artistic fingers do it, it was something so very different. Or maybe that was just me and my muddled mind. A mind that tended to glorify this golden little pixie before me. I wasn't surprised but somehow apprehensive that she did this. But why did I care about her doing it if I was the one providing it?

"You know you could have asked me for some," her voice slips into the air bringing me back down from her naturally inducing high, glancing up into those eyes I take in the glittering glint they have as she speaks to me, "I had some in my bag."

"Why didn't you say so?" I ask with a lopsided confused grin.

Shrugging her shoulders I watch with a lustful interest the way that blood red tongue peaks out and licks the paper before expert fingers seal it. Swiftly placing the joint down on the table to join its identical three brothers I briefly think to myself she's fast at this. Usually it took me a good five minutes tops to roll, I hated the tearing paper and much preferred bongs, even makeshift pipes were a self proclaimed talent. Quoting her from earlier, I'm your modern day MacGyver, well; you know for pipes and drug purposes.

It isn't very long before we receive new visitors that being the princess and the very clean nerd. It's surprising to say the least that the princess is the first to arrive. It's even more so that the nerd is the close second. They sit down and while Dior is apprehensive of the new arrival she remains quiet while grabbing a joint and quickly lighting it with that silver Zippo of hers. She pulls three good hits before holding them in and handing it off to me. I take it easily and mimic her actions. With a whoosh she allows the air to leave her lungs and smiles at me.

"Not bad," she tells me but her smile quickly turns teasing as she leans back in her chair and allows me to bask in the sight of her, "but I've had better."

Handing the thing off to Brian, I don't care enough to watch what he does with it, and ask with a brow raise, "That so?"

She disregards my questions as she tosses her bangs out of her hair and stares at me. I don't shift under her stare, so very heavy with curiosity and silent questions it weighs me down. There's something sharp and unsettling about the look in her eye. I've never seen it before but it's been there since I came back from the closet and took in the horrible sight of her crying. I froze when I saw her tear stained face. My mind whirled, who, what, and why would someone make such a beautiful creature as strong as she cry? I've been itching to ask her why but I find myself lacking the courage to do so. The sound of Claire talking breaks my intense focus on her and in turn hers of me.

"Do you know how popular I am?" she asks obviously a light weight already pretty messed up from the little she's taken in, "I'm so popular, everybody loves me so much at this school…"

"Oh what a burden that must be, huh," Dior mutters darkly anger flashing in those eyes of hers as she goes to light a separate joint unwilling to take the one Claire holds out for her.

Obviously I missed something, well of course I did Dior was crying when I showed up, but it was something that happened between these two girls. And while I was pretty dumb I wasn't brain dead. A guy should never meddle between the issues of two chicks unless they wanted to get pulled under all the bull shit. It was best to stay quiet and out of this. So I watched as a very high Brian waves Claire over and slips his arm over her shoulders. To my surprise I watch on as Claire allows this and nestles deep into his embrace.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch Andrew in some room filled to the brim with smoke. The door opens allowing the smoke to tumble out as he exits slowly. Placing a white stick to his lips, wait, when did he get a…no way. Mr. Straight and Narrow was actually…oh this should be good. We watch and happily clap as he begins to screw around running up and down the second floor of the library. He punches flags, jumps over shelving, and does several acrobatics before heading back to the room and blasting the familiar sound of Aerosmith. Eventually the little shindig ends leaving us with nothing but a good claming high in our minds.

I can't tell you what the rest are doing because I can't bring myself to care enough about them to look over and see. My eyes run over the difference between the things before me. Everything is new, expensive looking and so very shiny cosmetics on one side. The other side held scraped up, slightly chipped things and very little to no makeup excluding a mere eye liner. It was like night and day. The dark being that of Dior's things for she had lighters, cigarettes, rolling papers, pills—what kind I don't know—in bottles, and a baggie of some very strong marijuana. The light being Claire and all her fancy tools to keep her made up and perfect. I couldn't tell you what they were but I can tell you I don't see the point in them. Dior didn't seem to wear anything she did and she looked just as good, if not better, than her heavily done face.

But that's simply my opinion.

"Are all of these your girlfriends," Claire asks as she rifles through my wallet.

Shrugging my shoulders I peer over at the figure a good distance away fiddling with the deep violet acoustic perched on her lap. Her fingers flowed easily over the strings plucking out the softest most calming sound I had ever heard, "some of them," I answer automatically.

"What about the others?" she asks curiosity in her voice.

"Well, some I consider my girlfriends and some…I just consider…" I tell her easily my voice trailing off to imply the obvious.

But this was lost to her as she asked with a tilt of her deep red head, "Consider what?"

"Whether or not I wanna hang out with them," I say simply.

"You don't believe in one guy one girl?" she asks, what was I on 20/20?

My brow raises at her as I tilt my head to the side and ask, "Do you?"

"Yeah," she says softly and soon gains confidence, "that's the way it should be."

To each their own, "Well, not for me."

"Why not?"

Clearly I avoid the question and demand, "How come you got so much shit in your purse?"

But she easily shoots back, "How come you got so many girlfriends?"

"Ah," I say with a grin, "I asked you first."

Shrugging her shoulders she pulls herself up to look at her things before answering, "I dunno, I guess I never throw anything away."

Grinning fiendishly I smoothly lie, "Neither do I…"

"Oh," was all she said for a moment before motioning to the golden headed figure in the distance before muttering, "Don't you think you should?"

Dior POV

"They ignore me," Ally whispers to him hurt filling her words.

All Andrew can do is simply nod with a stiff jaw and mutter, "Yeah…yeah…"

I don't say anything, I don't think I can, that wasn't my conversation to step into. They obviously were doing some kind of deep sharing or some shit or the other. I just happened to be in hearing distance around them. But even then it wasn't my fault I heard I had moved myself to this spot as they had been sitting around talking to get some peace and quiet. I came here to play the damn melody stuck in my head.

"What'cha doing?" his voice gives me a jolt.

Sitting cross legged with my guitar on my lap I hold a hand over my racing heart and growl out at him, "apparently having a heart attack."

He laughs, that deep rumble of a chuckle, before he smiles at me and simply says, "My bad, sorry."

Looking up instantly I forgive him. Those shining black eyes, that smile, that beautiful face has me so very weak. But I shake my head and simply mutter, "Nah, it's cool."

"So you gunna tell me what you're playing?" he asks softly.

"Nothing really," I tell him my fingers absentmindedly strumming a steady unknowing melody as I answer, "Just random shit. Sometimes I get a melody stuck in my head and it'll nag at me forever if I don't sit and play it."

"Wow, so you can compose?" there's wonder in his voice and the way he stares at me he makes me feel so very cool and awesome, but I know I'm not.

"Yeah, but I can assure you its not as cool as you think it is," I tell him trying to break down his expectations of me before he even builds me up.

He raises a perfectly defined chocolate brown brow at me before asking, "Have you written any songs or…"

"Yeah I've written a few…" I begin to say and am quickly cut off.

"No shit," he asks wide eyed before instantly demanding, "Play me something!"

There's a good hell no on my tongue. It wants so badly to be shouted but the way those dark eyes shine with amazement, towards me of all people, and I'm rendered powerless. Like I've said if he only knew the extent of his power over me. If he only knew how much I'd give simply to see that shine in his eyes continue to burn bright.

Heaving a heavy sigh I duck my head and mutter halfheartedly attempting to deter him, "they aren't that good."

He moves his hands to settle at both sides of me. His large hands grip the edges of the self I sit on trapping me with his large body. Leaning slowly down over me he allows me to bask in his sandalwood and something purely John scent, such a heady scent it is. Ducking his head he whispers into my ear allowing his warm breath to ghost over my skin sending shivers through my body, "Just sing for me."

And whether I liked to admit it I did, I sang for him and him alone. He moves away to allow me some playing space and leaves me yearning for his warmth. Refraining from reaching out to him and pulling him close to me I shut my eyes. In order to play, in front of him of all people, I can't look at him. If I stare into those eyes not a single sound would spill out. So I close my eyes and summon up some unknown courage deep within me.

_Sometimes, I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear_

_And I can't help but ask myself how much I let the fear_

_Take the wheel and steer_

_It's driven me before_

_And it seems to have a vague, haunting mass appeal_

_But lately I'm beginning to find that I_

_Should be the one behind the wheel_

_Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there_

_With open arms and open eyes, yeah_

_Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there_

_I'll be there_

_So if I decide to waiver my chance to be one of the hive_

_Will I choose water over wine and hold my own and drive?_

_It's driven me before_

_And it seems to be the way that everyone else gets around_

_But lately I'm beginning to find that_

_When I drive myself my light is found_

_Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there_

_With open arms and open eyes, yeah_

_Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there_

_I'll be there_

_Would you choose water over wine_

_Hold the wheel and drive_

_Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there_

_With open arms and open eyes_

_Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there_

_I'll be there_

My voice rang out clear with the last of the notes. My eyes remained closed for a moment too afraid to open and see the look, whatever it may be, hanging on Johns face. But eventually when nothing is said my eyes force themselves open to assess the damage. But what I find has me reeling. Not only was John my only audience member but all of them—Ally, Claire, Brian and Andrew—stood wide eyed and smiling at me. I panicked.

Jumping off the shelf I grip my guitar to me and sputter out, "I know, I messed up a few notes, it's not very good, I just came up with it a few days ago…I'm still working on it!"

It was true though. I had just come up with it a few days ago so it was still relatively rough. Plus with the knowledge that I was singing this for John, to John, in front of said John had me messing up quite a few times. And speaking of John my eyes instantly flashed up to meet his heartbreakingly handsome face. What met my eyes was such a gorgeous sight it should be downright illegal. He was smiling, full on radiant heartfelt smile, at me. My heart—such a poor old thing—nearly gave out on me.

"That was," oh here it came, from the beautiful lips of the one my heart solely belonged to, ugly criticism, I prepared for the worst, "amazing!"

Huh, squeeze me? Baking powder? "Huh?" was all I managed to say.

His smile widened before he tells me smoothly, "You beautiful, are amazing, completely and utterly amazing."

Oh, my heart, poor old thing, did give out.

* * *

><p>Song by Incubus: Drive<p>

I own nothing. _(Obviously.)_

_~Dreaming Ani_


	9. Chapter 9

"What would I do for a million bucks?" Andrew repeats the question a small smile splitting his face. briefly I notice the way Ally can't help but smile back at the sight of it, but I say nothing, I'm not in a position to point shit like that out. "Well I guess I'd do as little as I had to…"

Huffing just a tad Claire pouts and states, "That's boring!"

"Well," Andrew says looking thoroughly confused, "How'm I s'posed to answer?"

"The idea is, like, to search your mind for the absolute limit. Like, uh, would you drive to school naked?" Claire questions a teasing smile on her face.

Laughing Andrew answers, "Um, uh…would I have to get out of the car?"

"Of course," she states smoothly.

"In the spring, or winter?"

"It doesn't matter…spring."

"In front of the school or in the back school?"

"Either one."

"…Yes…"

We laughed, or they laughed, I was too nervous to think straight. But one couldn't blame me. Soft yet somehow rough and masculine fingers ran carelessly over my skin, tracing, mapping, and silently asking questions I couldn't find answers to. By the pattern in those cruelly blissful fingers I know he's tracing my ink, following the blue wisps of what should be water and pink fleeting petals of a sakura tree. My shaky hand currently holding the soda I never drank during lunch time gave up on trying to moisten my dry mouth. I settled instead for a simple white cancer stick to calm my fraying nerves. It didn't seem to be helping.

Abruptly Ally's familiar voice cuts through as she declares, "I'd do that," when all eyes are upon her, all attention solely hers she continues, "I'll do anything sexual, I don't need a million dollars to do it either…"

"You're lying…" Claire says with a narrowing of her eyes.

"I already have, I've done just about everything there is except a few things that are illegal…I'm a nymphomaniac," she informs us with a wicked smile on her face.

Though I hate to say I doubt her but you see a good liar, and I pride myself in being such, can always make out a fellow liar. So even in my half dazed state induced by these marvelous fingers that never cease I know she's lying. But again I won't call her out on it. I fully intend on watching the drama unfold.

"Lie…" Claire says with a rolling of her eyes. It wasn't so much that she doubted Ally more like she was unwilling to believe that someone could do such a thing and admit it so calmly aloud.

"Are your parents aware of this?" Brian asks wide eyed and full of shock as if someone pulled the curtain of innocence up on him abruptly and harshly.

Shrugging her shoulders Ally replies, "The only person I told was my shrink."

"And what'd he do after you told him?" Andrew asks a mixture of deeply disturbed and sickly fascinated.

Grinning wildly Ally says coolly, "He nailed me…"

Pursing those glossed lips Claire sneers, "Very nice…"

"I don't think that from a legal stand point what he did can be construed as rape since I paid him," Ally tells us smoothly undeterred by the reactions she receives.

Shock flutters all through Claire as she shouts, "He's an adult!"

It's almost as if she's relishing in the attention, full on happy that finally she's being looked at, even if in disgust and disapproval, "Yeah…he's married too!"

"Do you have any idea how completely gross that is?" Claire does little to nothing to hide the disgust on her face.

"Well the first few times…" Ally goes to say to be cut off by Claire.

"First few times? You mean he did it more than once?" she looks shocked, appalled, the world was falling all around her.

By this point it was obvious, blatantly so, or at least it was too me, that Ally was lying and having damn fun with it too, "Sure…

"Are you crazy?" asks Claire in exasperation.

"Obviously she's crazy if she's screwing her shrink," Brian says obviously another having a morally hard time accepting what he's hearing.

Quirking a brow Allison turns to Claire and asks smoothly, "Have you ever done it?"

"I don't even have a psychiatrist," Claire says by way of ignoring the question but fails.

"Have you ever done it with a normal person?" Ally clarifies eyeing her carefully.

It was obvious to anyone with a set of eyes that the princess was. The way she blushed madly, the way she carried herself, it just reeked cherry. But there was nothing wrong with that, I don't know why she was so damned ashamed of it. I'd be proud, hell grateful, fucking jumping for joy, if I was still whole and pure.

"Now, didn't we already cover this?" she asks eyeing John as if he would come to her rescue.

I don't have to be looking at John, but I wish I was, to know his brow went up and a cold smile slipped on his face as he said, "You never answered the question."

"Look," she say eyeing us all to get her point across that she was speaking to us all, "I'm not going to discuss my personal life with total strangers."

Grinning darkly I roll my eyes and mutter, "Oh but it's fine to drag my dirty laundry out for all to see huh?"

"It's kind of a double edged sword isn't it?" Ally concludes using a tone that had one listening for it was dark and mysterious.

Confusion mars princesses face as she asks, "A what?"

"Well, if you say you haven't…you're a prude. If you say that you have…you're a slut," oh it didn't feel good when you were the one sitting in the hot seat did it Claire, "It's a trap. You want to but you can't but when you do you wish you didn't, right?"

"Wrong," Claire says snobbishly.

A dark smile slips on Ally's pale face before she asks, "Or, are you a tease?"

As if finally just catching on Andrew jumps in by saying, "she's a tease…"

"Oh why don't you just forget it…" Claire bites out obviously flustered by the string of interrogation.

"You're a tease and you know it, all girls are teases!" Andrew states his eyes subconsciously sliding over to me. I notice it but remain quite unwilling to break the heat coming down on the princess.

"She's only a tease if what she does gets you hot," John tells Andrew smoothly with that cold hard tone.

"I don't do anything," Claire defends her morality.

Smiling brightly Ally states, "That's why you're a tease.

"Okay lemme ask you a few questions," Claire says glaring down the dark headed vindictive shadow not so quiet anymore.

Going on the defensive Allison says quickly, "I already told you everything."

"No," Claire shakes her head and continues on, "Doesn't it bother you to sleep around without being in love I mean don't you want any respect?"

"Ah," Allison looks as if she's finally found the slip she was looking for and tells her, "I don't screw to get respect, that's the difference between you and me."

"Not the only difference I hope," the princess sneers causing me to roll my eyes at her.

"Face it," interjects John his strong arm snaking its way around back of me and settling upon my lower belly, "you're a tease."

"I'm not a tease!"Claire shouts angered at his words.

"Sure you are. You said it yourself sex is a weapon, you use it to get respect," he says and I can hear the grin in his voice but can't bring myself to move from the warm embrace he has me in.

"No," she looks confused before she says, "I never said that, she twisted my words around," an accusing finger is throwing Ally's way. Not that she minds she's smiling too brightly to care.

"Oh then what do you use it for," I know he knows she's as innocent as she claims but is now simply messing with her.

She's on the verge of tears her face flushed red her voice cracks as she shouts, "I don't use it period!"

"Oh, are you medically frigid or is it psychological?" John asks being such a very good asshole.

"I didn't mean it that way!" she shouts looking for anyone for help, but no one is willing to help the drowning victim just yet, she deserves a good dosage of her own medicine, "You guys are putting words in my mouth!"

"Well if you'd just answer the question," John says his words drawn out and in a sing song voice.

"We'd leave it alone if you'd just tell us the truth," I mutter between inhales of nicotine fully enjoying the glare thrown my way.

Brian seems to be the only one willing to offer some true help and asks, "Why don't you just answer the question?"

And then it started. Everyone started attacking her with questions attempting to make her break. And for a split second as I take in the cornered look on her face I feel something a kin to sympathy. But it washes away the moment I realize just who is before me. Just who was feeling a fraction as helpless, as fearful, and as shamed as I felt this entire school year. My sympathy disappeared as I watched on silently enjoying the look on that perfect face of hers as long as it lasted. But it didn't last too long she broke easily enough.

"NO!" she shouts silencing the onslaught of unrelenting questions, "I never did it!"

Theres a thick silence for a good two minutes before Ally breaks it with a jaw dropping confession, well at least for everyone else it was jaw dropping, I couldn't help but grin at knowing the truth from the start, "I never did it either…I'm not a nymphomaniac…I'm a compulsive liar…"

Oh really, never would have guessed.

Her mouth hangs open as hurt and anger washes over her features, "You are such a bitch! You did that just to fuck me over!"

"I would do it though," Ally amends halfheartedly adding, "If you love someone it's okay."

"It's pretty funny though," Claire says with a wicked cold smile as she mutters, "We have someone who lies about being a slut when we have a perfectly real tramp right here."

The fluttering feeling his touch induced abruptly vanished, wild butterflies whirling in my stomach died, scorching hot wrath spilled out in me as I glared fully at the witch before me. How easy it must be for her to sit in judgment upon me. How easy it must be for her to look down her nose in her Armani jeans, her thousand dollar boots, diamond cut earrings, how very fucking easy.

"Well," I mutter darkly breathing in the sweet nicotine, "Fuck you too bitch."

"What did you call me?" Claire snaps her face contorted with anger.

Rolling my eyes I ignore the way the warm arm that holds me tensed, "I called you a bitch, bitch."

"How dare you—"she starts only to be cut off.

"Well I just call'em how I see'em sweets," I slur at her flicking the still lit but dead cigarette away uncaring if it started a fire or burnt straight through the blue carpeting.

Her brow rises as a vindictive glint shows itself in her moss green eyes, "If that's the case I'll happily be the bitch you five cent whore!"

A growl, vicious and low, rips out from somewhere behind me and I barely have enough sense to know that it came from John. But I can't bring myself to feel anything over it for the same feeling as before rips through me. It breaks down whatever barriers I put up around me to keep me from falling apart. Memories unwanted and forbidden attack my very forefront of my mind and I'm weak under their assailing hands. My body shakes as something very similar to word vomit rises to the surface and spills out against my very will. Nodding I stare her down and if looks could kill she'd be ashes by now. My lip pulls back as I attempt to smirk at her but I know it comes out wrong. I feel how cold and void of any life it is. I can almost see the way they all shudder at the sight of it.

Forcing the urge to smash her face in I ask in a voice I can't recognize as my own, "What do you know about me Claire?"

It's an honest and relatively harmless question. What did she know about me? She hardly knew my name yet she claimed it was enough to condemn me.

Sneering openly she crosses her arms and says haughtily, "I know enough."

"You don't know a god damn thing about me Claire," the way I say her name its as if it's the worst kind of insult there was, "You think you do but you don't. The reason you hate me, the reason none of your so called friends ever give me a moments peace, is why you think you know me. But you weren't there; you weren't there in that workout room that night. You didn't see hear how much I cried out for help. You didn't see how much I fought and how much blood of mine was spilt as I attempted to get away. You didn't see, you didn't hear, you don't know. But you think you do, you fucking act like you know, so I'll tell you."

Turning to look at both Andrew and her I say easily as if it isn't tearing me up inside, as if it isn't like razors on my tongue, "The people you call friends were the people who beat me, mocked me, and humiliated me as they defiled me. They raped me. They are the ones who are wrong. They are the ones who are horrible, vile, and evil people. But people praised them; people slapped their backs with pride at their actions while I, well I, was thrown to the curb to be judged. They ostracized me as if I was the one in the wrong when I wasn't!"

The silence was so heavy as horror filled expressions were sent my way. With a growl, with a lip curl of a smirk I darkly demand, "So tell me Claire, how much did you say you knew about me?"


	10. Chapter 10

John POV

No one knew what to do. So they shared, bared their souls to her. Showed her how imperfect their lives were. Yet all I could think about was the way her body still trembled and the words ringing clear in my head. Seething, volcanic heat like anger, boiled in my blood wishing so badly to be let loose. Yet somehow, lord only knows how because I don't, I managed to stay put and hug her.

It was terribly intimate and while that in itself was treading on dangerous grounds she hadn't pushed me away. She leaned into my touch wordlessly pleading to me to stay in place. I did so willingly, I think I would have done it regardless. My forehead rests on her shoulder as I gain a whole new kind of high off her heady scent alone. She smells of vanilla and cinnamon but there's something just under it. Something that was simply…Dior, strong yet femininely sensual. It called to me and had me ever so addicted.

If one would have asked me I would have never broken the embrace. I was perfectly content with my head in the juncture of neck and shoulder. I was perfectly fine with having that tiny lithe body so close to mine in such an intimate way. But slowly, ever so gently, she began to shift. It was odd how I could almost feel the way the resolve strengthen within her. Her movements were gentle neither refusing my comfort nor rejecting it.

In fact, I can say rather damn confidently and proudly, that her hands tentatively reached out for me. Willingly I allowed her to do with me what she will for in the end it was a bit of selfish on my behalf. Her head rested itself on my lap comfortably while she curled up beside me as if physically drained after her emotional breakdown. Slowly, I'm assuming so that it would be discreetly done without my knowledge of it, she places my arm to drape over her waist. Though she is further from me now the act, the mere fact that that those eyes soften when they look up into my own, makes this position just as intimate.

It's safe to say that I have no complaints of the change.

Somehow the conversation seeped into my dreamy state and grabbed hold of my attention. Glancing up I see the one who is talking now is Brian. No longer is Andrew all broken up for now he is bordering on somewhat composed. What the conversation was all about I haven't the slightest clue. All I knew was that the lanky kids next few words had me easily agitated.

"…I thought I was playing it real smart, you know. 'Cause I though, I'll take shop, it'll be such an easy way to maintain my grade point average…" he says only to be cut off by my harsh words.

"Why'd you think it'd be easy?" I demand from him roughly.

Giving me a condescending look Mr. Physics-Club merely asks, "Have you seen some of the dopes that take shop?"

Quirking an angry brow I grit out, "I take shop…"

"So do I," Dior comments softly the first words spoken from her lips since the bomb dropping.

Yes she took shop, she took shop with me, which was why I was so clearly offended, among many other reasons, "You must be a fucking idiot."

"I'm a fucking idiot I can't make a lamp?" he asks angrily.

Nodding I say as equally snarky as his previous questions, "No, you're a genius because you can't make a lamp…"

"What do you know about trigonometry?" he demands from me.

Shrugging smoothly I say easily, "I could care less about trigonometry."

"Bender," he looks oddly offended at having to defend trigonometry, "did you know without trigonometry there'd be no engineering?"

Simply to be an ass I tell him, "Without lamps there'd be no light!"

At this the angel resting on my lap, idly running her fingers in lazy circle eights upon my thigh, laughs softly. This and the giddy feeling her touch induces, gives me an accomplished grin that for the life of me I didn't care who saw.

"Okay," interrupts Claire, "So neither one of you is any better than the other one…"

Obviously Allison, the girl my Dior seemed oddly fascinated about, feels left out and instantly jumps in, "I can write with my toes! I can also eat brush, brush my teeth…"

"With your feet?" Claire asks slightly astonished.

"…play Heart & Soul on the piano," Allison finishes with a small grin.

Brian jumps in easily too, "I can make spaghetti!"

"What can you do?" Claire asks Andrew with a soft smile.

"I can…uh," Andrew gives a nervous smile before glancing about, "tape all your buns together…"

Abruptly, and still angry at the fact that she made my Dior cry, I demand from Claire, "I wanna see what Claire can do!"

"I can't do anything," she instantly says looking defensive.

"Now," I say in a bit of a mocking tone, "everybody can do something…"

Caving Claire says with a shy smile, "There's one thing I can do, no, forget it. It's too embarrassing!"

"You ever seen Wild Kingdom? I mean that guy did that show for over thirty years," I tell her as if to reassure her.

"Okay but you have to swear to god you won't laugh…" smiling almost as if she'd done the act already she mumbles lowly while uncapping a lipstick, "I can't believe I'm doing this…"

There's a silence as she places the lipstick between her breasts and ducks her head. It's obvious as to what she's doing: she's applying the lipstick from between her cleavage. Lifting her head she smiles and allows us all to see the perfectly applied pale pink lipstick. Everyone claps—Dior excluded –wholeheartedly, all but one: me. I'm a grudge holding kind of man and believe in vengeance. So my clap is sarcastic, slow and loud.

"Alright!" Andrew says with a grin, "Where'd you learn that?"

"Camp, seventh grade…" Claire says happily and almost proudly.

"That was great Claire," I say my voice nearly dripping with vicious sarcasm, "my image of you is totally blown away!"

"You're a shit," shouts Allison narrowing her dark eyes at me, "Don't do that to her you swore to god you wouldn't laugh!"

"Am I laughing?" I demand roughly, trying to ignore the way tiny hands grip my thigh.

"You fucking prick," Andrew yells angrily.

"What do you care what I think anyway?" I growl out at him watching as my words hit home with him, "I don't even count, right? I could disappear forever and it would make any different…I may as well not even exist in this school, remember?"

Turning to look at the pathetic spoiled sniveling bundle that was Claire I bite out, "And you…don't like me anyway."

"You know," she starts off wiping feebly at her tears, "I have just as many feelings as you do and it hurts just as much when someone steps all over them!"

"God you're so pathetic," my voice rises with my ever growing anger, "Don't you ever, EVER, compare yourself to me! Okay? You got everything, and I got shit! Fuckin' Rapunzel, right? School would probably fucking shut down if you didn't show up! 'Queenie isn't here!' I like those earrings Claire."

Her crying has increased, not like I care, I'm well passed that point now, "Shut up…"

"Are those real diamonds, Claire?" I ask sickeningly sweetly.

"SHUT UP!" she screams.

"I bet they are…did you work for the money for those earrings?" I continue on.

Forcing the words out she says weakly, "shut your mouth!"

"Or did your daddy buy those?" plunge ahead hitting the nail upon it's head.

"Shut up!" she furiously screams.

"I bet he bought those for you! I bet those were a Christmas gift, right?" I all but shout out, "You know what I got for Christmas this year? It was a banner fucking year at the old Bender family! I got a carton of cigarettes! Old man grabbed me and said smoke up Johnny! Okay, so go home and cry to your daddy, don't cry here, okay?"

My rage is undeterred at the sight of her quivering bottom lip or the pooling and spilling of tears. All I could wonder about was, did she, did Dior, look like that when she began to cry?

There's a heavy dose of silence until Andrew breaks it, "My god, are we going to be like our parents?"

"Not me!" states Claire and at my surly doubtful expression she says with conviction, "…ever."

"It's unavoidable, it just happens," Allison says softly and darkly.

"What happens?" Claire asks still rubbing at her eyes.

"When you grow up your heart dies," Allison tells us.

Heaving a big puff of smoke I mutter darkly, "Who cares."

Allison at the verge of tears says with a cracking voice, "I care…"

And for the first time since her heavy confession she spoke, but did not move from where she lay upon my lap, "That's shit. It, your heart, only dies if you let it."

No one dared contradict her. For it was true in a sense. I didn't believe Allison. I wasn't about to grow up and have myself be the exact replica of my bastard father. Of course I wasn't going to be the best well rounded kind of guy any girl wanted, that I knew with certainty, I was more than rough around the edges. But I will not, no, I refuse to be him. I refuse to beat the woman I married. I refuse to beat my child simply because the mood strikes me to do so. I refuse to die.

And it seemed, with the heavy laced silence, that the others thought the same. Our future was our own and no one elses. What we did with it, who we became, was all on us.

"Um," comes the timid voice of the lanky nerd, "I was just thinking, I mean. I know it's kind of a weird time, but I was just wondering, what is going to happen to us on Monday? When we're all together again? I mean I consider you guys my friends, I'm not wrong, am I?"

"No…" Andrew says lamely with little to no feeling behind it.

"So on Monday, what happens?" Brian asks us all yet again.

"Are we still friends, you mean?" Claire asks softly, "If we're friends now, that is?"

Nodding slowly Brian says, "Yeah, I want the truth."

"I don't think so…" Claire replies while Andrew slowly ducks his head.

"Well, do you mean all of us, or just John?" Allison says clearly avoiding looking at me.

"With all of you…" Claire admits.

"That's a real nice attitude Claire!" Andrew says darkly.

"Oh be honest, Andy, if Brian came up to you in the hall on Monday what would you do? I mean picture this, you're there with all the sports. I know exactly what you would do, you'd say hi to him and when he left you'f cut him all up so your friends wouldn't think you really liked him!" she shouts.

"No way!" Andrew defends himself.

"'Kay, what if I came up to you?" Allison asks.

"Same exact thing," Claire informs her.

"You are a bitch!" I shout angrily.

"Why?" she shouts, "Cause I'm telling the truth? That makes me a bitch?"

"No, cause you know how shitty that is to do to someone! And you don't got the balls to stand up to your friends and tell 'em you're going to like who you wanna like!" I scream at her.

"Okay, what about you, you hypocrite?" she shouts looking all holier than thou, "why don't you take Allison to one of your heavy metal vomit parties? Or take Brian out to the parking lot at lunch to get high? What about Andy for that matter, what about me? what would your friends say if we were walking down the hall together? They'd laugh their asses odd and you'd probably tell them you were doing it with me so they'd forgive you for being seen with me. And you'd do the same to Dior, only they'd believe you then."

Anger radiates off me in waves and at her words I can feel the tension in the small body upon me. It's as if cold water realization has been dumped upon her abruptly.

With fury like no other I bite back, "Don't you ever talk about my friends! you don't know any of my friends, you don't look at any of my friends and you certainly wouldn't condescend to speak to any of my friends! So just stick to the things you know, shopping, nail polish, your father's BMW and your poor—rich—drunk mother in the Caribbean!"

She sends a kick my way and though it doesn't hurt me it causes Dior to jump up and scurry away from my touch, "Just bury your head in the sand and wait for your fucking prom!"

"I hate you," Claire says through furious sobs.

"Yeah?" I ask only to reply before she answers me, "Good."

"then I assume Allison and I are better people, huh? Us weirdos," Brian says softly obviously feeling hurt. Turning to eye Allison he asks, "Do you…would you do that to me?"

"I don't have any friends," she replies smoothly.

"Well if you did?"

"No…" she tells him, "I don't think the kind of friends I'd have would mind." but turning her head she eyes the figure just past me, "What about your friends Dior? Would you turn us away if we walked up to you?"

Dior POV

What would I do? Well bringing into mind that my friends, the little that I have, aren't even enrolled here I know I wouldn't snub anyone. I had no right; no I had not the heart, to treat others as I have been treated. Like a pariah, a disease, a filthy gunk under my shoes. If John—especially John—Ally, or Brian—and even Andrew or Claire—I would not send them away.

"My _friends_," I begin softly while lighting the white stick at my lips, "range from twenty year old moms of three and a thirty six year old man that hasn't had a single steady relationship since the age of sixteen. No I don't think my friends would mind if I talked to you guys. In fact I think they'd encourage me to speak to those my own age."

Wasn't that the truth Billy, my boss, Karen, the twenty year old mother of three, pushed to me towards kids my own age. It's an annoying habit of theirs though I know it's done in an innocent manner. They don't want me to head any further down the dangerous path I'm on. They know what lies ahead of me if I continue with my destructive tendencies. They know because this path has led them to their unfortunate situations.

Oh if Billy and Karen only knew my loner status wasn't by choice. The popular kids didn't talk to me, for obvious reasons. That left the head bangers—like scrumptious John—but they only ever talked to me because they thought I was an easy lay. Nerds were almost always too intimidated to speak to me or thought I was somehow beneath them, twisted. Loners, like Ally, tended to warm up to me because in the end we had no one else to turn too.

A lungful of white smoke slips past my lips as I speak so very lowly I have trouble hearing it myself, "I wouldn't turn you guys away because I know what it's like to be rejected day in and day out."

"I just wanna tell each of you," Brian begins to say, "that I wouldn't do that, I wouldn't and will not! Cause I think that's real shitty!"

"Your friends wouldn't mind because they look up to us…" Claire tells him truthfully. Truth or not it was a shitty thing to admit aloud.

"You're so conceited Claire. You're so conceited! You're so, like, full of yourself, why are you like that?" Brain says laughing dryly.

Tears pool over much faster now that it was little Brian being mean. Hurt, pure pain, flutter over her pale features as she defends herself, "I'm not saying that to be conceited. I hate it! I hate going along with everything my friends say!

"Well then why do you do it?" Brian demands from her.

"I don't know…" she stares down at her lap as if it held the answers for her, "I don't know, you don't understand, you don't. you're not friends with the same kind of people me Andy and I are friends with! You know, you just don't understand the pressure that they put on you!"

Shock and a bit of anger slip onto Brians face before he asks almost exasperated, "I don't understand what? You think I don't understand pressure, Claire? Well fuck you! Fuck you!" tears spill past his brilliant blue eyes before he hides his face in his arm, "Do you know why I'm here today? Do you? I'm here because Mr. Ryan found a gun in my locker…"

"Why'd you have a gun in your locker?" Andrew is quick to question with surprise deep in his features.

"I tried. You pull the fucking trunk on it and the lamps supposed to go on…and it didn't go on, I mean…I," his voice trailed off as his eyes gained a faraway look.

"What's the gun for Brian?" Andrew asks firmly.

He opens his mouth before snapping it closed but settles for a lamely uttered, "Just forget it…"

Cocking a sandy blonde brow Andrew gruffly states, "You brought it up man!"

"I can't have an F, I can't have it and I know my parents can't have it! Even if I aced the rest of the semester I'm still only at a B. and everything's ruined for me!" he tells us easily.

With pity deep in her voice Claire calls to him, "Oh Brian…"

It's the icing over the shitty cake for him as he kicks over a chair and says feverishly, "So I considered my options, you know?"

"No! Claire shouts sharply, "Killing yourself is not an option!"

Huh, interesting that the ice queen should even care.

"Well I didn't do it did I? No I didn't think so," he says with venom.

"Obviously not, if so, you did a shitty job at it," I mutter darkly to myself only to have John shoot me a reprimanding glare.

While it was a reprimanding one I melted easily enough. His dark eyes looked softer, as if something he'd been battling was lifted up off him.

"It was a hand gun?" Allison asks.

Shaking his head Brian tells us with utter honesty, "No, it was a flare gun, went off in my locker."

"Really…" Andrew says only o have it cut off by a laugh that I easily fell into.

Glaring at us both Brian states, "It's not funny." It effectively kills our laughter, if only for a second.

Everyone shares a small laugh and eventually Brian joins before saying, "Fucking elephant was destroyed."

The atmosphere shifts dramatically into a lighter one. And it's here that Allison gains confidence.

"You wanna know what I did to get in here?" she asks and when she see's our expecting stares she merely smiles happily and replies, "Nothing, I didn't have anything better to do."

This time there's no pause before we all start laughing. As if troubles of three life times have been lifted up off our souls we all feel new. So we laugh happily and freely.

"You're laughing at me…" asks Allison with a laugh and a smile.

Between his laughs Andrew finds it in him to defend us all, "No!"

"Yeah, you are!" she says but doesn't look to put off and in fact joins us in our laughter until it dies.

It isn't long before dark eyes flash over to me and I'm held a willing prisoner. He's silent for a moment before his lips part and asks, "Why are you here?"

"Me?" I ask unintelligently.

Rolling his eyes he gives me a small smile and replies ever so sarcastically, "No the plastic plant behind you Dior, yes you."

My heart fluttered in my chest at the sound of my name running from his lips. A smile broke across my face and if I had ever the intention of hiding the reason to my being here it was completely crushed now. I could keep nothing from that smile and those dark eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

It was nothing as wild as bringing a flare gun to school or pulling the fire alarm. I hadn't skipped school to go shopping or mentally terrorized a kid. I hadn't gone and pulled an Allison and done absolutely nothing. I'd just gone and done something I'd always done. I've done it for so long that I stopped bothering to look around anymore. I'd gotten sloppy and so I'd gotten caught.

"I…" I paused for dramatic effect only to end vaguely, "got caught."

"Doing?" Brian questions.

"Something I shouldn't have," I tell him.

"Obviously," Claire says with a furrow of her brows.

"What did you get caught doing?" Allison asks a much clearer question.

"Drawing," I tell them innocently enough.

Crossing his arms over his chest John gives me that wicked smile while a knowing glint shone in his eyes, "Drawing what?"

"A certain…indecent picture with a certain…indecent principle," I mumble before raking my fingers through my hair.

Confusion flutters through them all as they stare at me as if I'd cure it for them. When they realize I won't cave they begin to dart glances at one another until a gasp is heard. Its jagged and high pitched, a girl's gasp, following it to its source it's no surprise that it's Claire who had gasped. She's staring wide eyed at me a hand lightly held over her mouth currently agape. A nervous grin spreads on my face as I pinch the butt of the white stick tighter between my lips.

"That was you?" she asks in horror.

Pulling the white stick to hold it between my fingers I worry my bottom lip, "Well…yeah…kinda."

"What was you?" Andrew asks the curiosity obviously eating at him.

"I drew a certain kind of picture with a voluptuous scantily clad sailor girl…" I tell them softly and quickly realization dawns on them.

"That was you?" Brian shouts sitting up straighter and looking just as offended and horrified as pretty in pink Claire.

"What was you, will someone for the love of Christ tell me what the hell is going on?" demands Andrew glaring about us all.

"You didn't see it?" asks John with a smirk and brow raise.

"See what?" he growls out.

Shaking his head Brian comes in to say, "Not many people saw it because when Vernon did he demanded that they cover it up immediately."

"What did they cover up?" Allison asks that dark gleam of curiosity glowing brightly in her eyes.

Stubbing out the now dead cigarette under my boot I merely huff, "I drew the body of a hot bombshell sailor girl riding a bomb shaped in…a very suggestively shaped warhead."

Wide eyed and gaping Andrew merely asks, "What?"

"Yeah," I'm pretty sure a slap on the wrist would have been my punishment but…" my voice trailed off.

"But what?" Andrew demands so very captivated in my tale.

A laugh, a very nervous one at that, slips out of my lips while I wring my hands, "Well the very hot brunette sailor girl was a bit of a but-her-face."

"What does that mean?" Allison questions.

Before I can say anything, Claire jumps in to shout, "It was Vernon, the face was Vernon's!"

"Ha, yeah, it was Vernon's face on a very curvy salior girl perched on a slong shaped warhead with the letters D-I-C-K written on it," I mutter a heavy blush adorning my face while I ducked away from the jet black eyes that followed me.

Laughter, laughter truly meant and truly felt, echoed off the walls as everyone genuinely laughed their asses off. I laughed too unable to hold back. We laughed until we rolled around and continued on as I managed to say between choked laughter:

"Yeah, if it wasn't disturbing enough to merely look at it, imagine having to draw it!"

Our laughter and merriment brought us to do all crazy and stupid things. Music was put on and we all made sure to make asses out of ourselves. And by that I mean dancing. We danced with each other, next to one another, and perfectly in sync with one another. We're breathless and only slightly sweaty by the time the song ends. Briefly I glance about to look at the misfit group that we were.

The princess was laughing happily at something or the other while hugging a book and staring at poor red faced brain through dreamy eyes. The jock smiled silently with open knowledge of the basket case's lies. The criminal was currently sitting upon the railing with his arms draped over a tramp openly nuzzling her neck. The said tramp lived up to her title and stayed between his toned legs with her hands lazily resting upon his thighs.

"I should get going…" he muttered lowly into my shoulder allowing his breath to fan over my skin.

Chills, of the most delicious kind, shot up and down my spine leaving me a bit weak in the knees. The feel of his nose lightly brushing up to the juncture of neck and shoulder then back down to the tip of my shoulder had my heart pounding in my chest. His arms, thick with muscle, circled around my waist keeping me in place, as if I would ever willingly leave the sanctuary of his embrace. I was in bliss, hopeless bliss, until of course his words dawned on me. My brain struggled to make sense of his words but eventually did.

"Oh…" was all I offered because it was all I was willing to say.

I wasn't about to beg him to stay. No I didn't need him to think of me as some needy and clingy girl. We weren't even dating, or at least he's never mentioned such a thing to me, if he had I would have made sure to omit it to memory. So instead of pleading him to stay here I merely sunk back into his warmth and basked into the scent of sandalwood, smoke and something purely John Bender.

"He has me locked in some closet…" the rumble of his voice sends shivers all over that I haven't the power to suppress them. I can almost feel the grin against my skin as he continues, "it's just down the hall from here…"

His words hang in the air between us. Is this a wayward invitation? Or a mere passing of words? Did he want me to chase after him? Was I simply looking for meaning behind meaningless words?

My mind is not allowed to ponder anymore on this before a light peck is placed upon my shoulder. Flames, a burning hot heat, hotter than the fire that marred my skin consumes me. It's as quick and just as wild as a forest fire. It starts were his lips scorched my flesh and spread all about me. My charred flesh is not nearly enough to satisfy its insatiable hunger so deep down this heat goes. It licks up my soul and burns it alive forever branding it with the scent of sandalwood, smoke and something purely...John Bender.

John POV

It's got to be the worst and best day of my life, this day I mean. I've lost count of the times I've had to walk away from her. Well, I'm exaggerating of course; I think it's only been a handle full of times, two or three tops. But still it tears at me none the less. I tried, desperately, but failed horribly to keep from looking back at her as I began my retreat out of the library.

One measly glimpse over my shoulder and I was lost. Those endless large pools of gold were glimmering with the shine of the fluorescent lights. Her smile was weak compared to the brilliant slightly crooked smile that was her true and pure one. There was sadness in her eyes as she offered me a small wave before I disappeared into the large hole of the ceiling. This brought me here in the damn heating duct having an inner battle whether to keep going to that damn closet or go back to my girl.

My girl…

What disturbs me the most about those last two words was the sheer certainty in which I said them, or in this case, thought them with? It's not as if I thought of Dior as my personal property, no, I wasn't my father here. It was just…hell I don't know how I truly meant it. I assume it's because I am truly and irrevocably hers that I merely assume she belongs solely to me. Obviously I know it makes no sense to anyone else should I ever get enough courage to admit this aloud. But I don't think it ever needs to make any sense, well, Dior aside.

Speaking of which I think it's about time I finally strapped on a pair and told her how I feel. To tell you the truth I've grown tired of having to dance about this like I gutless kid. The fear of being shot down of course was there. But the prospect of her actually saying yes tended to rub away any insecurity. Though the probability of her actually taking me, Mr. No-Good-Criminal, as her…_boyfriend_ was highly unlikely.

But like I've said I'm a bit of a greedy guy and whether she took me or not I wasn't about to let her go. She was mine whether she knew it yet or not. Slowly I crawled into the closet and onto the bundle of things while carefully slipping the tile back into place. With my elbow resting on my bent knee I allowed my mind to wander back to the velvety smooth heaven I left behind. My mind indulged itself in the memory of her creamy smooth silky tattooed skin. My heart tortured itself as I ducked my head down to inhale the remnants of her vanilla, cinnamon and something purely Dior scent.

Dior's POV

While Claire and Ally played dress up I sat upon the railing with Andrew, Brian was busy writing the essay for us all. I tried to look anywhere but the great hole in the ceiling but found myself looking only there. I was playing the ever willing masochist with myself here. It pained me to think about John yet he was all I ever thought about.

A familiar voice brought me out of my thoughts when Andrew decided to speak up, "You know it was pretty obvious that Bender wanted you to go after him…"

"You think so?" somehow I didn't feel so adamantly against showing my vulnerability to him, or any one of them for that matter.

By now we all knew each other better than anyone ever would.

Smirking at me he merely says, "I know so."

"Hmm," was all I offer him before falling back into my own thoughts.

I can't tell you what ended up happening after Allison came out dressed like a beautiful little princess. I can't tell you what happened after Brian received, what undoubtedly was his first kiss, from Claire. I can't tell you any of this because before I knew what was happening my feet had dragged me out into the hall. It took a little less than five minutes before I was standing before a door that said custodial closet. My heart pounded in my ears while my body stayed locked in place.

_It was now or never_, I thought to myself as I reached for the door knob.

Pushing all logical thoughts aside I entered and closed the door beside me. Whatever doubt, whatever fear of rejection or insecurity I had in me vanished at the sight of him. My breath caught at the sight of him and all I could think of was how damn lucky was I to see that gorgeous face. Surprise flutters on his face before a brilliant smile appears.

"You lost?" he asks with that heartbreaking smile in place.

With a smile to match his own, though never quite as beautiful, I mutter back, "I think so; I'm looking for a guy I know…"

Quirking a brow he plays along, "Really? Could you describe him, maybe I've seen him."

Worrying my bottom lip I pray to god I don't sound so cheesy when I speak the next few words, "Well, he's a gorgeous six foot something guy with a beautiful brunette mane that begs my fingers to run freely through it. He has the most dazzling set of black eyes that I swear on my life have a tendency to make me melt and fearful all at the same time. He looks rough around the edges and bit of a trouble maker though I know he's got a heart of gold. To tell you the truth…I think I'm head over heels in love with this guy…"

All that was missing from this silence was the sound of a cricket chirping in the back ground. I held my breath as fear locked up my body. The smile vanished from his face all through my little speech. Of course I feared I screwed up everything. Maybe I had read too much into meaningless acts and words.

But slowly, just as tears are ready to burst out at any moment, that stunning smile came back to me. Oh but this smile, this divine thing, was so brilliant I feared I would go blind merely looking at it. It broke my heart yet mended it in ways I couldn't even begin to describe. Slowly he stood and walked over to me.

If I had ever found his presence overwhelming I could say with certainty I did at this moment. Had he always been so damn tall, so largely built, so…John-like? His long legs swallowed up the distance between us instantly for there wasn't much of it. Before long he stood before me his scent all about my personal space and inducing a highly delicious dose of headiness. Grinning down at me he allows his rough fingers to trace my jaw. Slowly, as if he moved any faster I'd disappear, he bent down low to whisper into my ear:

"I don't think I've seen such a guy."

A smile neither laced with venom or any falseness broke out on my face as I turned to face his brilliantly gleaming black orbs, "That's a shame; he's a hell of a guy."

We share a bit of laughter before a deep seriousness settles on his features. Slowly and almost reluctantly he pulls away from me and goes to stand by a metal cabinet of sorts. It holds various things riddled with dust and I only notice this for he feigns interest in them. He fiddles with a broken sharpener missing its handle only to drop it when I begin to inch my way over to him. His body tenses the moment I'm within arms distance and whether that's a good thing or not it makes my heart squeeze none the less.

When I go to step back a hand snaps out and grips lightly at my hand. It holds no pressure and does not keep me against my will in place. So I stay there willingly looking up into those black eyes that have the power to condemn me or save me. Instead of the usual hardness or the wonderful confidence there is a glint that I painfully recognize. There's fear, doubt, and such a huge amount of hope it makes me marvel.

"Did you mean it…" his voice is a low raspy thing that sends chills all about me, "what you said about…loving me?"

How I manage to find enough wits about me to answer I haven't the slightest clue. But I answer honestly, repercussions be damned, "Yeah, I am undeniably and almost stupidly in love with you John Bender."

And summoning courage I never knew existed I threw caution to the wind and propped up on the tips of my toes. His skin was smooth and warm under my lips.

John POV

Shock vibrated all through my body as I stared at her, "why'd you do that?"

A heavy blush adorned her pale cheeks as she captured that blood red bottom lip between her lips. She looked so beautiful as she ducked her head and twisted about nervously under my stare. Eventually she found it in her to glance up at me and offer a bit of words:

"Cause I knew you wouldn't."

She stole my moment. I was but mere moments away from ravishing those wonderfully plump lips. But it was so like Dior to beat me to the punch only to be devastatingly beautiful while bashful about the whole thing.

"And you know this for a fact do you?" I ask with a quirk of my brow, oh how I loved to watch her squirm.

"Well," wrapping her arm around her she rubs the back of her neck and slowly cranes her neck up to stare up into my eyes. Her eyes watch me looking for any signs of whatever she looked for. The silence is cut only by her small question full of some doubt filled emotion, "would you, have kissed..._me_?"

The way she said _me_ almost made her sound out like some dirty, nasty thing, unfit for the air she breathed. How could she even phantom such a thought? How could she not see herself as I saw her? Beautiful, wonderful, gorgeous, brilliantly smart, hilarious, kind when she needed to be but just as ruthless when the need arose. She was everything I'd ever want and more. I was unworthy of her; no one was worthy to ever touch her coat tails.

"Kiss _you_?" I repeat the question slowly.

Timidly she nods her head and I can almost hear the way she dryly swallows her saliva.

"No," I can quite literally see the way my answer crushes her and nearly throws her to the floor. Her face is drained of all life and tears pool in her eyes. She moves to quickly dash out of the room but my hands keep her locked in place, "to kiss the girl I'm completely in love with…"

My words have the desired effect of shocking her into stillness. Wide eyed she stared up at me with disbelief, "I'd never have that much courage in me to do so. But I guess I'm lucky. To fall in love with someone brave enough for both of us…people only dream of that kind of stuff right? Look Dior…I know I'm not the best kind of guy, in fact, I'm pretty sure I'm the kind of guy mothers warn their girls about and fathers chase after with a loaded gun. I'm pretty sure what Vernon said about me was right; I'll amount to little in life. I'll probably end up running a shitty little mechanics shop that rakes in just enough to scrape by. College…school, I'm not cut out for it. I smoke, I'm rude, I cuss and I have issues like no one out there and while I know—with absolute certainty—that I don't deserve you, I'm willing to steal you all for myself. Because a Bender is a bastard by nature..."

Dior POV

"You love me?" I breathlessly asked with a grin that wouldn't quit even if I tried, though I wouldn't.

Issuing a breathlessly laugh he rakes a hand though that wonderful mane of his before nodding, "Was that the only part of my incredibly embarrassing speech that you heard?"

"No!" I shake my head at him before continuing, "I heard every last word but…you love…_me_?"

Sadness so deep and hurtful seeps into his eyes that instantly makes my heart ache at the mere sight of it. Softly he runs his fingers over my cheek as he gently cups my face, "Dior…I love everything about you to the extent where I wonder if any person should ever feel this way about anyone…ever!"

My heart fluttered in my chest. To say I was happy would be a hugely incorrect understatement. I was ecstatic, elated and in the laymen's of terms, fucking thrilled. My mouth opened, words perched upon my tongue died easily, what they were I don't know nor do I care. For what stopped me would forever make up for it.

It wasn't forceful, overbearing, or demanding. It was sweet, delicate and intimate though it was just the touching of lips. One would even dare to call it too innocent and slightly childish but I'd kick their mouth in for saying so. It weakened my knees and stole my breath. It spun the very earth while forcing it to sit still. The world around me faded into non existence as my eyes fluttered shut to enjoy the fireworks that burst behind my lids. In the simplest of terms it was perfect.

When he pulled away from me all I could see was the cold hard facts staring down at me in the forms of passionate flames of onyx. Those eyes reassured me that his words had been true. That the kiss had been just as mind blowing for him as it had been for me. God, how I loved those eyes of his.

Slowly a grin works its way onto my face that has him quirking a brow, "who would have thought Mr. John Bender was a closet romantic?"

His face falls for a moment and briefly I regret my words before that devastatingly handsome smirk works it's way up onto his face and he says to me, "And who would have thought that you, Ms. Dior Harper, would love every bit of it?"

A simple smile, pure and untainted, splits my face, "Call me gullible."

"No," he says softly as he cupped my face gently. Slowly he dips his head down to whisper in a low rasp into my ear, "I'll call you mine."

As if such a thing needed to be said aloud. Of course I was his, heart, body, soul, and mind if he'd have it.

* * *

><p>Okay, so I'm a bit stuck. I don't know how exactly to end this. To be a little bit more honest, I'm afraid of ending it.<p>

A suggestion has been made to me, by one of you fabulous, gorgeous and wonderful readers, that I should go into the 'Monday-Scenario'. You know how everyone goes about things once their in school. But I really don't know how I feel about this, hence the bit of a cliff hanger, it gives me room to work with. I'd really aprreciate it if you guys could give me some feedback on the topic.

Should I or Shouldn't I dip into the Monday-Scenario?

_~Dreaming Ani_

(P.S. I have to admit I do wonder what it would be like for Dior and John once they get there because of her confession about...the **rape**. Would he get angry, most likely. Ah John, such a temper, don't let his romantic side fool you. He's only sweet and cuddly with Dior, the lucky little girl.)


End file.
